


Silverwing

by StevieCass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, blood used as a magical ingredient, dragon!Cas (for a long part of the fic), minor character death (canon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 148,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StevieCass/pseuds/StevieCass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Dean Winchester has everything he wants: an amazing brother, a great ship, a sweet fiancee, and a life dedicated to fighting in the war, protecting his country. He really has no intention of associating with the aviators, the dragon riders. What he doesn’t know is that no aviator ever has chosen his position in the army; he finds out when a newborn dragon, Castiel, chooses him to be his rider. Dean has no choice but to obey.<br/>As Dean and Castiel join the order of aviators, Dean finds himself in a strange situation. There’s more to Castiel than meets the eye, the regiment he’s now a part of isn’t much, prophecies he’d always thought of as legends are creeping their way into his life, and fighting out of the sea is so complicated. Soon he realises that there’s more at stake than his own life, and there are far worse things than not surviving the next battle.</p><p>Written for Dean/Cas Big Bang 2013.<br/><a href="http://asteraoth.livejournal.com/11470.html">art masterpost</a><br/>See end of the fic for credits to my amazing betas.</p><p>This fic also includes some Jessica/Sam, in case you need a warning for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

_The Legend says the world hasn’t always been there._

_A long, long time ago, before everything else, the Light and the Dark existed in harmony. The only other thing existing with them was loneliness._

_Tired of it, the Light and the Dark created the three first races; the dragons, equally made of light and darkness, the demons, spawn of burning sunlight, and the angels, calm offspring of the night, bringing balance to the unlimited power of the demons. The Light and the Dark gave their children the order to create the world, and went back to their peaceful existence, knowing their purpose was fulfilled._

_The First Three joined their forces and created the world of Agorresh, a mighty continent in the middle of a great ocean. Far away from it, at the end of the sea, the First Three placed the Uncharted Lands, countries of legends that no one had ever stepped foot on. And they created the humans, curious, fragile creatures who inhabited the lands and gave the Three their purpose._

_The Three meddled from afar in the humans’ affairs for centuries, but then their creations got out of their control. The humans fought with each other so violently and for so long that the dragons couldn’t take it anymore and came to put an end to it. They spent so much time on earth ensuring the peace that they became mortal, and were unable to go back to the Heavens with their siblings._

_Devastated by the loss of the dragons, the angels and the demons turned against each other. The demons left the heavens and decided to make the humans worship them, while the angels decided to help the humans find their lost path. Some people took to building temples for the angels and demons as well, but the angels were far more loved than the demons. angels were not satisfied, because the humans still fought to convince others that their faith in angels were true; and the demons were insulted that they had so few temples for them. And while the angels decided to not meddle anymore, assuming that humans were just too different from them to understand, the demons became even more determined to bring the world into the shape they wanted, so they plotted their way to regain power over the humans. As the angels and demons remained quiet, some groups of humans focused their belief and worshipping to the powers of the Earth, and created their own gods. The gods were powerful creatures that fed off the faith of their believers, and were as powerful as the Three First; their only difference was that they weren’t eternal, as they would perish if their believers stopped calling their name. And so, the humans found guidance elsewhere._

_Centuries after the dragons’ fall, a group of demons managed to escape the temples they were summoned in and corrupt some of the most important noble human families. They were defeated by the human queen, a group of heroes, and a dragon, but they had managed to set in motion a series of moves that would shape the entire future of the world. More and more demons learnt the humans’ weak spots, and soon they managed to convert the entire island of Elavorn, the southern part of Agorresh, to their beliefs, and turn it into a demonic haven. Some dragons, desperately longing for their old days of power, joined the demons and the corrupted humans. The demons’ work was done, and so they returned to the fiery pits from whence they came, to enjoy their achievement from a distance._

_The rest of the dragons, unable to remain silent in the face of disaster, communicated with the angels after centuries and asked for their help. The angels joined them in their fight for a while, giving them advice and power, making their first appearance in the world after many years. But the blood of the angels held great power, and humans longed for it. They tried to take advantage of the angels instead of thanking them, hoping that they would find the secret of eternal life and youth. Disappointed, the angels soon went back to their quiet lives in the heavens for the second time, leaving one final word of prophecy as a last chance to the humans they had so loved: they talked of betrayal and of creatures half-draconic, half-angelic, who would be the final ray of hope for the humans to stop their wars and put an end to the echoes of the demons’ actions._

_Some dragons, tired of the wars, unable to follow the angels, flew off to the Uncharted Lands and away from Agorresh, making their species very hard to find. They still exist somewhere out there, longing to see their old days of glory again, or so the Legend says._

_The war went on for a few centuries, Elavorn against the rest of Agorresh. The dragons of both sides soon grew closer to the people, and allowed them to ride on their backs. Some remained on the side of the Royalty; the rest, who joined the warriors, created the class of the aviators. The aviators were trained from a young age and were considered the key soldiers in any important battle._

_And amidst the sporadic airborne battles between the aviators of both sides, the rest of the military worked without news from the Capital and the Aviators’ Order, and a lonely ship from the region of Senvar in Northern Agorresh just won a battle._

# Prelude

Dean wasn’t exactly too old for this shit, but he certainly felt that way.

The boards creaked familiarly under his boots, and he leaned onto the gunwale, finding comfort in the cold air on his face and the salt stinging his cheeks. In times like these, the scent of the sea and the stability of his faithful ship were the only things keeping him sane. He stared ahead on the horizon, squinting at the reflection of the sun in the water, watching the ocean spread as far as the eye could see. They were far off shore, and it was really mere luck that had caught them that Elavorni frigate.

That _damn_ frigate. Curse Elavorn and all the bastards who’d sent that ship across Dean’s path, men and gods alike. It just _had_ to be a battle for the war, hadn’t it? Dean hated starting his day with a fight in any case, but he would have preferred it if it had been, say, pirates. Some kind of murderous, rotten-toothed villains who would attack his ship to kill them because they liked it, not a bunch of scared teenagers who were in battle only because they happened to be born in the southern part of Agorresh, and who begged for their lives, offering Dean and his crew all the treasure they were taking back to Elavorn if they were to be spared. That wasn’t a battle; that always left a taste of slaughter in the entire crew’s mouth.

Dean sighed. He tried to think of nothing that would upset him any more than that, and the truth was, with all that mess inside his head, he found it surprisingly easy. He focused on the sounds of his sailors, the creaking of the mast, the thundering of the wind in the sails, the splashing of the waves upon the prow. He heard Ash shouting at the men to keep her steady, the thumping of his feet on the deck as he ran to make sure every knot was in place.  Dean was grateful for his lieutenant; it was nice knowing that at least one thing in his life was still working properly.

“Captain Winchester!”

Dean closed his eyes slowly, a part of him pretending he hadn’t heard the call. He inhaled and exhaled noisily to calm down, and turned his head around, with his arms still resting on the gunwale. Andy was standing awkwardly behind him, his hands nervously playing with his damp shirt, his shoulders trying too much to stay in place; he looked like a child playing pretend. He saluted, and Dean fought very hard with himself to not roll his eyes.

“Please speak, Mr Gallagher, we don’t have all day,” ordered Dean impatiently. He tried not to feel bad. He _did_ have all day, but he wasn’t in the mood to accept that right now.

“We’re ready, sir,” said Andy, his voice more nervous than anything Dean had heard before. He could understand. It wasn’t making him feel any better. He nodded.

“I’m joining you in just a second, sailor,” he said. Andy saluted again and walked away. Dean sighed and followed. This wasn’t going to be easy anyway, so he had better get on with it.

He was satisfied to find that the ship had come to a halt before he even stepped ~~his~~ foot on the bridge. Damn him, Ash was good. Dean was glad to see the entire crew already in a line before him, ready to hear him out. Most of them hardly looked professional; the dark blue coats of the Navy were long gone and the white pants were dirty, and masts were easier to climb with your feet bare. Dean had always thought his crew looked more like pirates than military men, but he didn’t care about how they presented themselves as long as they acted the right way. Ash was looking the most ridiculous of all, with his hair all over the place and with a goddamn red-and-white striped shirt on, but he was getting in place just then, and he was standing at attention in the blink of an eye. Dean glanced at Sam’s movements as he made sure everything was in line.

Dean usually held back a proud smile when he laid eyes on his little brother; Sam used to be a good kid, and had turned out to be a good man too. Before even his twenty-fourth birthday, he had proven himself a better commander than many others, older than him, with much more experience and too many connections in the government. Dean couldn’t have asked for a better second-in-command. Yes, just his brother’s existence on the ship was usually enough to make Dean smile.  

Not today, though.

Dean clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward, moving slowly, his boots thumping against the wooden deck.

“Gentlemen,” he started, “as you know, today you proved yourselves once more. You managed to capture an Elavorni frigate, defeat her crew, claim her treasure for our ship and our Lord Campbell of Elaurans, and honour the name of King Roman and the Council of Twelve. So feel free to congratulate yourselves once again before we start.”

Dean watched as the crew exchanged a few smiles and stirred with excitement; they quickly got back in line, though. They knew all these things already, but Dean needed a good introduction.

Dean continued: “As you know, the treasure is great and it will support the ship for a while, as well as raise respect for Lord Campbell’s fleet and army. You’ve seen for yourselves that there are chests of gold and gems, as well as weapons and fine fabrics from the East. Our provisions are also going to last a bit longer, as the crew of the frigate isn’t going to need theirs anymore.” Dean took a look around to make sure everyone was listening. No more excuses; time to get to the point. “I do not know how many of you are aware of this, but inside one of the chests there is a dragon egg.”

The murmurs spread like the plague. Dean could relate; there hadn’t been a dragon capture in these lands for a while now. He waited a few moments before raising a hand to stop the talking.

“We are faced with a difficult task, gentlemen,” he said. “Our commander has examined the egg and, according to him, it’s about to hatch any day now. One of the crew will have to take care of the egg and then the dragon, so that it will be ready to join the aviator forces in the Capital when it’s grown. It’s a rare opportunity and we can’t throw it away”.

“But, Captain—“

Dean turned to look at Christian, who seemed to be at the brink of panic. Pity, Dean thought; he’d expected Lord Campbell’s nephew to be braver. Well, Lord Campbell would have expected that of him, anyway; Dean didn’t really have as good an opinion about the lord as he should, which ~~was~~ sometimes made him a bit uneasy, since Lord Campbell just so happened to be his grandfather.

Dean tried to relax his shoulders to seem less intimidating.

“Yes, sailor?”

Christian gulped. “Sir, I understand that we need to keep the dragon, but… Can’t the hatching and harnessing wait until we get to shore?”

Dean sighed and managed not to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“As I said earlier, Mr Campbell, the egg is about to hatch. Chances are we won’t have enough time to get back to shore before the dragon is out, unless any of you can convince it to stay inside its shell for a bit longer. As I trust you understand, there has to be someone to take care of the beast”.

“Yes, but…” Christian’s fingers untangled from the end of his shirt and clasped behind his back. “But it’s said that the one who will see a dragon born and help harness it is forever bound to it. They say that’s all it takes for someone to become an aviator for the Crown. And we all know what an aviator’s life is like.”

There were some approving murmurs among the crew. Dean knew he had to ease their worries, but he also knew that he couldn’t, and he hated that; he would have preferred to tell them how regretful he was about the poor bastard who’d end up taking care of the flame-spitting lizard for the rest of his sorry life, but he was a captain and there was certain protocols to be followed. He could feel Sammy’s eyes on him as he smiled as kindly as he could.

“The rumours are true, as far as we know, Mr Campbell, since none of us is a dragon expert,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s any need to worry. Of course, it is a great responsibility, and none of you seamen would have chosen it if it were up to you, but an aviator’s life is not that terrible.” Lies, _lies_ , all of it. An aviator’s life _sucked_. But he couldn’t tell them that.

“Then why don’t _you_ take care of the little devil, Captain?”

Dean turned his face to look at Jake; the sailor’s eyes were full of anger, his dark skin glistening with sweat under the April sun. Dean always knew that guy would be bad trouble at some point.

“Mr Talley,” started Dean, his voice icy cold, “I should remind you that I have many responsibilities that the rest of you do not; I am a captain of the Royal Navy, keeper of the _Impala_ , and heir to my father’s naval legacy. With all due respect, the navy will not miss a sailor or two were they to become aviators. In fact, I would think of it as a promotion if I were you.” Dean felt bad for even thinking about these things, but you needed to be arrogant to be taken seriously as a captain.

“It’s a life of slavery,” Jake accused. “They practically breed aviators to ride dragons. Whoever takes this dragon would forever be expendable. You always say how, no matter the rank, we are all equal on this ship, Captain. And yet you’re sending one of us to be the Crown’s slave.”

Dean didn’t look around him. He knew already that the crew were looking at each other. He smiled stiffly, keeping his anger down and his eyes on Jake’s face.

“You’ll be glad to know, Mr Talley, that no matter my responsibilities, I have the same chances as you to be chosen for this job,” he said quietly. The murmurs around him stopped; even Jake looked confused. Dean looked at Sam, who nodded and came closer, holding a glass bowl in his hands. Inside there were a few dozens pieces of paper.

Dean looked at Jake and the crew. “We are to draw lots, gentlemen,” he said. “Fate is going to decide which man’s name is going to come out of there and who is going to devote himself to the Crown… unless, of course, we have a volunteer.”

The crew exchanged some looks, but they all remained silent. Dean wasn’t surprised. He’d have done the same thing. He simply nodded.

“Mr Winchester, bring that bowl here, if you please”, he commanded Sam, using the special voice he saved for occasions like that. Sam obeyed, and Dean put his hand inside the bowl, shuffling the papers, trying to pick one that felt the best in his fingers. He hated that he had the same chance as his men to be chosen for this  (they were right, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it; an aviator’s life was indeed a life of slavery) but he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he hadn’t put his name in.

He finally settled on a paper that seemed the best. He pulled it out. He could feel the men’s thoughts and prayers mirroring his own: _please, don’t_ _let it be me, don’t let it be me_.

He spread the paper and held it in the sun. His first instinct was to check the first letter of the name, and to feel immensely relieved it wasn’t him.

Then he saw the name and his heart sank.

He licked his lips and took a couple of deep breaths before he let his shaky voice out.

“…Samuel Winchester.”

Dean felt as if from a distance a black cloud of fear lift up from the crew, and settle on his chest. It was none of them. In his wish to not choose his own name, his hand betrayed him and condemned his brother. He was suddenly very aware of the entire crew watching him, but he couldn’t exactly focus on anything. He distinctively remembered trying to speak Sam’s name in a plea for him to let Dean take his place, cover for him like every time Father caught them doing something bad when they were kids and Dean didn’t want little Sammy to take the blame; he saw his brother’s head shaking ever so lightly, his hazel eyes immovable with determination. He thought, later on, that Sammy – no, Sam – had saluted, and that the wind and the movement of the entire world had stopped. All he knew was that he had found himself in the same spot when the sky had already started getting darker, and that none of the crew had tried to move him.

Or maybe they had. If that was the case, then his crew had failed as much as he had.

__


	2. Egg

It had been two days, and Dean hadn’t dared to go and see Sam in his cabin. He’d told himself and the crew it was because now that their commander was incapable of taking care of things around the ship, Dean, as the captain, had even more work to do; plus, they had to think of the unborn dragon. It probably needed peace and quiet until it was time to hatch. But a small part of Dean, one he cursed for being impossible to ignore, was telling him it wasn’t because of that. Dean knew that if he visited Sammy and the egg it would start feeling like goodbye already, and he wasn’t ready for that shit. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the damn egg that was taking his brother away from him, because he was almost certain he was going to give it to the cook to turn it into breakfast.

Yet, no matter what, the truth was that Dean didn’t have a lot of time left with Sammy. An aviator’s life left even less room for family and friends than a seaman’s did, and since both the captain of a ship of the line and an aviator were destined to fight in the goddamn war for probably their entire lives, for all Dean knew, this could be one of the last times he had left to see Sam. And as much as he hated to think of it like that, it didn’t make it less true. There really wasn’t much to think about. In the morning of the third day since capturing the Elavorni frigate, Dean headed for Sam’s cabin.

Dean gently knocked at the door, entered without waiting for an answer and almost choked on the heat. The weather was already warm, but Sam had apparently turned his cabin into a humid oven, supposedly for the sake of the egg. Dean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling too much at home to use his handkerchief, and took a look around. The room was filled with maps, as always, papers and old parchments and tools spread all over it; the desk looked relatively clean, compared to the floor. The porthole was covered by a heavy cloth, probably found inside one of the chests they’d taken aboard from the frigate, as it seemed too soft and rich to be something they’d taken with them from Elaurans, their homeland. The entire room was lit only by a few candles and an oil lamp, giving the space a trembling yellow colour which could be either soothing or extremely disturbing, depending on what kind of stories one’s parents read at night. Dean noticed a change in the colour of the wall by the bed, the yellow broken in places by flashes of silver reflectionsSam was there alright, having the egg wrapped in a couple of woollen blankets and having placed it securely on his bed, by his pillow. He didn’t turn around at the opening of his door; he only kept watching the egg. For a man so ridiculously large, Sam looked too much like a mother hen.

“Close the door, Dean,” Sam said quietly. “You’re cooling the room”.

Dean shut the door behind him and took off his coat and neckcloth as he approached Sam and the egg. Damn, the kid was acting like a guardian already. Dean focused on his brother for a moment, watching the kid’s long hair, messy and unwashed for days as it was, hiding his stupid sideburns but unable to keep his affectionate smile from sight. His large hands were keeping the blankets in place, and his hazel eyes were looking nowhere but the egg.

Dean glanced at it, hating it with all his heart. But he couldn’t let an unborn thing poison his moments with Sammy, especially when its presence didn’t seem to annoy Sam as much as Dean had expected. He inhaled and exhaled a few times to calm his trembling speech.

“So, how’ve you been doing with this little fucker?” he asked, pointing at the egg, trying a little bit too much to sound normal. “It looks weird.”

Sam looked at him for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“I could swear it was not this big the last time I saw it,” said Dean. “Are you feeding it, Sammy?”

Sam snorted. “Dragon eggs get bigger as they get ready to hatch, Dean,” he informed his brother.

“Fuckin’ great,” murmured Dean. That’s exactly what he needed. The egg hadn’t been bigger than a large melon the last time he saw it, but now it resembled more a small watermelon. Dean hadn’t paid much attention to it before, because he didn’t think it would matter, but now he couldn’t stop looking at it. It was scaly and dully shining, its surface creating the strange reflections on the wall and, Dean noticed, on Sam’s face. Its colour was a gleaming silver, disrupted by a few spots of black, which might have been blue, but Dean wasn’t sure, seeing it under the yellow light inside Sam’s cabin. It was definitely a very beautiful thing. But Dean wasn’t going to put it on a shelf, and it could be made of diamonds for all he cared; he doubted that the creature lurking inside it, anxious to be born, would be this pretty, and even if it were, it would make no difference.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, Sammy,” he started. His brother just arranged the blankets around the egg again. “How’ve you been doing?”

Sam shrugged, without averting his eyes from the egg. “I’m okay.”

Dean glared at him. “No, you’re gonna look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said. Sam obeyed, with an expression on his face that even Dean couldn’t decipher. “I want you to tell me the truth, Sammy. How are you?”

Sam shrugged again, and shifted in place to make himself more comfortable. “You know what? I really am okay,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”

Dean stared for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Okay.” he muttered. “Okay. You’re fine. That’s good.”

“Look, I know you don’t believe me, but--”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t,” said Dean, hating himself for being so aggressive, but unable to stop. “How can you be okay, Sammy? Are you so ready to give up everything you’ve ever known just to take care of a dragon?”

 _Yeah, bring on the puppy eyes,_ thought Dean. He knew that he deserved it, but he didn’t care.

“Look, Dean,” Sam started, “I’m not saying that I want to give up on my life as I know it, okay? Because I don’t. I’m fine with being commander of the Impala, and yeah, if life on a ship wasn’t my first choice, life on the back of a dragon isn’t it either. You know better than anyone how much I wanted to be an academic, and now I’ll never have the chance. But I swear, it’s not that bad. I mean, better me than anyone else, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean. Sam seemed a little reluctant, as if unable to form words that could properly express his thoughts.

“It’s just--” he started, and then took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve always been fascinated by dragons, right? Yeah, I wasn’t exactly dreaming of making them my profession, except in a theoretical, distant kind of way, but I really, really like them. You know this better than anyone, Dean; you were the one to read me all those stories of dragons when we were kids. And now I’m not only going to meet one, I’m getting to ride one.”

“But Sammy--”

“It’s not in the best circumstances,” interrupted Sam, “I know. But many of the men up there have families of their own, and they shouldn’t have to leave their families to take care of this little beasty over here and devote their lives to the Crown’s army.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” murmured Dean and averted his eyes. “But, you know… I could take over for you, Sammy. You don’t need to do this.”

“Shut up, of course I do,” said Sam. “Besides, you’re the captain, and you’re about to start a family of your own. Don’t let it go to waste. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not about to start a family,” said Dean, surprised.

“Oh come on,” said Sam with a small smile, “I know about you and Cassie. She’s beautiful, and you’ve been spending all this time together at home. Her father’s sure you’re going to propose to her. He told Mom about it, and well, she told me.”

Dean definitely _didn’t_ blush. He was suddenly happy he was below deck, where his men couldn’t see him. “Nothing’s for certain,” he mumbled. “I mean yeah, we’re close and all, and I’d sure like it if we went forward with this, but… I don’t know if I wanna chase it right now. There are bigger problems and I--”

“You’re unbelievable, Dean,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head. “I know you love that girl. Why let her go? What ‘bigger problems’ are there?”

“Well, my brother’s setting out to be a dragon rider, for starters,” snapped Dean.

“Yes, but this is something you can’t help me with, Dean,” Sam insisted. “This is something I need to do alone. I’m gonna make it, but I have to do it by myself.”

“I know,” said Dean quickly. “I just wanna help in any way I can, okay? I don’t wanna lose you, Sammy. Especially not to that pyromaniac omelette material over there.”

“Gods be good, Dean, watch your language,” Sam hissed, leaning protectively over the egg. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy,” he fumed, “It’s an unborn reptile inside a freaking shell. Are you seriously telling me that--”

“It’s a dragon, Dean,” Sam insisted. “It’s not a random lizard you found under a rock. I swear, I’ve been studying dragons my entire life, and I know I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m talking about. Dragons are intelligent before they’re even born. They’re more ancient than the Gods themselves, and you know what? It’s a huge privilege to have one on board. And I have to tell you, this is a shell I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what’s inside it, but it’s gonna be good.”

“Or very bad,” Dean suggested.

“Whatever it is, Lord Campbell is gonna love it. Dad, too.” Dean wasn’t sure whether Sam’s voice was sarcastic or not. He didn’t answer. Did Sammy think Dean hadn’t thought of all these things? Their father’s approval was something he’d been after since he was a kid. And yet he wasn’t sure that was the way to earn it.

When he thought of it, everything came down to that: he didn’t want Sammy to become a soldier for the Crown. He’d have preferred him to stay on the ship, where Dean could keep an eye on him. Or, if he had to keep the damn reptile, he could become a captain for the local army or something; an aviator would bring some prestige to the armed forces of Elaurans. But Dean wasn’t sure that Lord Campbell would allow Dean and Sam’s father to keep the dragon for a protector, even if their father John had married the lord’s daughter; the Winchesters weren’t among the most powerful families when it came to the long lines of nobility, they were famous for their naval men, not their lords, and Lord Campbell would want the dragon to go along with the others in the orders of the aviators of Northern Senvar, or even in the Capital. If it turned out to be a rare dragon, as Sam apparently thought, and not a common green Emeray or a red Firebreather, like every other egg found in the last couple of decades, then Lord Campbell would definitely want to take it to join the armed forces.

Dean sighed. He was already tired of this war. It had started too many years ago, before Dean was even born; in fact, he thought it was before the Winchester family had even existed. The human race was really freakin’ lucky that the dragons had decided to help them out, even though it would have been nicer if all of them had picked the _same_ side. Some old tales their mom used to tell them before bed talked of angels and how they had decided to fight against demons too; it was said – their mother used to say in a slow, mysterious voice – they had given the dragons some of their power and had created a hybrid race meant to coexist with the humans and help them defeat the evil forces. She used to talk of a prophecy the angels had given, that peace would come again when that hybrid race walked the earth; Dean had forgotten what she had called it, or whether she had given it a name at all. Then she usually promised that even if the angels didn’t fight anymore, they _were_ , in fact, watching over them.

Dean laughed at those who still believed that crap. The angels had stopped caring eons ago, and anyway, even if they did care, Dean had never seen any proof of their interfering, not even a single little angelic miracle, let alone a whole army of haloed dragons or whatever. It had been them and most of the remaining dragons against the demons and their supporters for too long now. And to tell the truth, with so many dragons gone, those still in Agorresh were almost dependent on humans, and that just wasn’t _healthy_ , in Dean’s opinion. But the Order of the Aviators didn’t care about health, and dozens of children were taken from their families each year to grow up in training and become the next generation of soldiers capable to manage a dragon. When a dragon egg was found, it was given to them and they raised the dragon to fight alongside them.

Needless to say, dragon eggs were not something you found lying around. Dean had no idea how the Elavorni had found a dragon egg that didn’t belong to any kind that Sammy could recognise, but it ought to be something interesting. So the only thing for him to do was to take it home to Lord Campbell. There was only the tiny problem of Sam having to be the guardian of the egg.

Dean sighed again, partially trying to get Sam’s attention. Sam was preoccupied with the egg, though, and didn’t give any signs of having heard his brother.

“Well,” said Dean, standing up, “What can I say, Sammy. If that’s what it has to be like, then there’s little I can do.” He turned to leave.

“I’m really sorry, you know,” Sam’s voice echoed behind Dean. Dean turned around. “I wish I didn’t have to do this. But now I do. If it wasn’t for the dragon, you know I’d have stayed on the ship for good. It’s a life I learned to love, and I wouldn’t give it up without a good reason. I just want you to wish me luck and for me to learn to love the aviator life too.”

“Fingers crossed,” Dean murmured. “And who knows,” he said more loudly for Sam to hear, “If that doesn’t happen, maybe they’ll find a poor son of a bitch who was unlucky enough to be taken from his mother’s lap when he was still crawling to be trained into slavery, and who’s waiting for a little scaly bastard to show up for him, and you won’t have to be the one who takes all the crap.”

Sam snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dean.”

“I’m serious,” said Dean, only half-joking. One part of him knew that he needed to stop, but somehow his mouth didn’t obey. “I’m sure you’d nail it, but hey, a man can hope he won’t see his brother turn into a dragon babysitter. You don’t know what’s gonna come out of there. Imagine this little thing becoming so large it can lift you up and then decide it had rather chase seagulls and throw you in the ocean. It ain’t a pleasant life.”

“You wouldn’t know that,” said Sam.

“Yeah, I would. I fucked an aviator once. She told me all about it, and you know what, I saw it too. You wouldn’t wanna see the skin between her legs. Like leather, it was. Dragons were never meant to be ridden by humans, Sammy. _Humans_ were meant to be ridden by other humans, now _that_ I approve of.”

Sam snorted, but Dean counted his brother’s little smile as a victory. They stayed silent for a moment, knowing the moment of fun for that day had come and gone. Then Dean decided to give it up. He trusted Sam, and he should remind him.

“You ride that dragon’s ass hard, Sammy,” he said, smiling, as he left. He heard Sam laughing. He was pretty sure he heard the word “jerk” but he didn’t look behind.

 

* * *

 

The next day came and passed, and so did the next one, and the next. Dean preferred to take Sam’s food to his cabin himself, not because he didn’t trust the cook, but just because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with Sam before he was gone. He even listened to some aviator-related crap, even if he didn’t pay much attention. He didn’t care how the dragon’s harness should be made, as long as it kept his brother on, but he did take the pages and gave them to Andy, who was good with his hands, and told him to make one with whatever they had lying around. Sam took to taking the egg outside in the sun every afternoon, and while Dean didn’t understand why, he accepted the whole ordeal as a part of the routine and by the end of the first week with the egg, it was something that happened naturally on the ship, just like the morning curses of Ash waking the crew and the sounds of the waves crashing on the sides.

It was around midday of the eighth day when Sam took the egg outside a little earlier than usual, saying it felt a bit warm and that he hoped the wind would cool it off. Dean couldn’t stop the crew from staring; Sam looked a bit worried, and when the person who took care of the freaking dragon egg looked worried, everyone else had a good reason to follow his lead. Dean approached Sam, keeping calm only because his captain’s pride was at stake.

“Sammy?” he called quietly.

Sam looked at him, a drop of sweat on his brow. “What?”

“What’s wrong with the egg?”

Sam gulped. “I, uh… I think it’s hatching.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What, right here, right now?”

“I don’t think it cares much for your nautical schedule, Dean,” said Sam desperately, keeping the egg in the sun. Dean could swear the egg twitched, but maybe it was just his imagination. The crew had started gathering around, glancing towards them, their eyes following the reflections on the egg’s shell.

“Okay,” said Dean, trying to stay calm. “Okay. What do we do, Sammy?”

“Step back,” said Sam, after just a second, and he slightly pushed Dean back. “Give it some space.”

Dean obeyed. He shooed the rest of the crew as gently as possible. “At ease, gentlemen,” he said. “Don’t crowd the place. Watch, if you must, but don’t get in the middle of anything.” To be honest, Dean doubted that any seaman would want to get in the way of a dragon _being born_ , but he couldn’t take any chances.

He turned his eyes on the egg. Yes, it was definitely moving. Now that he saw it under sunlight, he realised it wasn’t all silvery white. The patterns were indeed deep blue, but around them there were more disrupting the silver, a few tan spots like watercolour marks. A crack appeared on the shell and Dean felt the entire crew hold their breath.

The crack widened. A small part of the shell dived into the roundness of the egg; Dean wondered why he remembered of that time his mother had tried to make a soufflé and it had turned out deflated and funny-looking. A few more cracks appeared around the shell, like veins under skin, until, with a loud cracking noise, the egg broke apart and the small dragon fell out.

Dean blinked, surprised at its appearance. He didn’t know what he had expected. The dragonet was stretching before him, losing the vague egg shape it had the first second it appeared and looking more like a winged lizard than an actual dragon. Dean noticed it had more or less the colours of its egg; its scales, where they were not covered by egg-slime, were silvery white and dotted with random patterns of tan. It had two wings on its back, and four legs, its front ones looking more like arms than actual animal paws; each paw was wide and thick, indicating that the dragon would end up quite big, and was armed with claws that Dean really didn’t want to come close to when the dragon grew up. Dean watched as it tried moving its wings clumsily, and felt bad for thinking of a dead chicken; the wings were not much like a bat’s, as he’d expected, but more bird-shaped, with the skin between the bones thick and veined and beige. As the dragonet moved out of the remnants of the shell, shaking the slime off its head and looking around, Dean noticed that it had some narrow blue-black patterns on its back, continuing up on its narrow head and across its long, slim tail. Dean was aware that Sam was talking, probably trying to catch the dragon’s attention, but he was so mesmerised by the little creature that he didn’t catch his brother’s words.

Then the dragon turned around and looked directly at Dean.

Well, scratch that. _Now_ he was completely lost in the dragonet’s existence. Its eyes were big and round, and they seemed to have absorbed all the blue in their environment. The pupils were slit like a snake’s, but they didn’t remind Dean of any snake he’d ever seen or heard of. Instead, Dean was reminded of a scholar, maybe, or an old, wise man. The dragon’s eyes weren’t like an animal’s at all; they were intelligent and persistent, and they wouldn’t look away from Dean. Dean was starting to feel uncomfortable, especially because somewhere beside him, Sam was desperately trying to catch the dragon’s attention and failing miserably.

The dragon blinked, and it looked around for a moment before looking back at Dean, who gulped.

“Hello,” said the dragon, and Dean felt his heart stop. That wasn’t right. “I thought you were supposed to greet me first.”

The dragon’s voice was deep and velvety, and definitely masculine. Dean wasn’t sure if the dragon was actually using his throat and lips to talk, or speaking directly into his head. And how could he know? He hadn’t read about this, he wasn’t the one to whom the dragon was supposed to be talking. He glanced desperately at Sam, who was standing like a statue at first, and then nodded slightly. Dean looked back at the dragon.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and then cleared his throat. “I apologise,” he corrected himself, “I’m still learning. My name is Captain Dean Winchester. What is yours?”

Stupid, stupid Dean. How could the dragon have a name? He had literally just come out of his egg. But the dragon looked confused for a moment, and then relaxed.

“I am called Castiel,” he said quietly. _Lips, he’s using his lips. He’s not in my mind._ The dragonet looked around him. “I am hungry.”

“Of course you are”, murmured Dean. “I’ll take care of it”. He looked around at the crew, who were staring at him numbly. “Someone go bring some meat from the galley, immediately.”

A few “yessir”s were heard, and a few men bumped into each other until one of them managed to leave for the galley. The rest just stared at Dean. He took a deep breath and looked back at the dragon.

“Castiel, right?” he asked, terribly worried he’d mess up the pronunciation. The dragon tilted his head. Dean felt his breath shake inside his throat as he took Sam’s arm and pulled him closer, not daring to look him in the eye. Damn it, Sam actually wanted this. He had the right to do something he fucking _wanted_ for once in his life. “Castiel, this is Sam. He is my brother and he--”

“Dean.”

Dean turned to look at Sam, whose expression was unreadable. Sam looked at the dragon and then at Dean, and made a notion with his head. “Go to him,” he said quietly. “He chose you.”

“Sammy--”

“Go.”

Dean’s eyes stung as he looked at the dragon again, smiling slightly. “This is my brother, who took care of you when you were in the shell. He’s a great guy, and he will be an excellent captain.”

Dean heard Sam gasp, but the rest of the crew weren’t surprised. And why should they? Sam had been a great commander, and if he was a bit young at twenty-four years old to be a captain, who cared? Dean knew his little brother could fill his shoes brilliantly. He heard someone come from the galley and bring the food to the little dragon; he guessed he should pay more attention to him from now on. At the sound of the dragon eating, Dean took out his epaulettes carefully, as to not rip the fabric on his coat, pinned one on Sam’s shoulder, and put the other one inside his brother’s pocket; it would take two years of captaincy for him to be able to wear the other one.

Dean saluted. “Congratulations, Captain Winchester,” he said.

Sam looked a bit lost, but he saluted.

“Cheers for Captain Winchester,” sounded Ash’s voice, and some reluctant huzzahs followed. Sam took a few steps back.

“And cheers for—for Castiel,” he said, and the crew obeyed loudly; not excitedly, Dean thought, just encouragingly. They knew what was up for him.

As Sam dismissed the crew and cleaned the remains of the egg off the deck, Dean sat beside Castiel, not knowing whether to touch him or not; he really was afraid he might hurt him, plus he had no idea whether dragons were like cats or something and hated being disturbed during their meal. He watched for a few moments as Castiel devoured the meat and then held out his hand to touch the little dragon. Castiel didn’t resist. Dean tried rubbing gently the dragon’s head with two fingers, as it was still too small for Dean to cup with his entire palm, and then continued down on the dragon’s slender neck and shoulders. The dragon’s skin was covered with tiny spikes, not nearly sharp enough to bother Dean, but enough to make him imagine what it would be like to scratch an itch on the dragon’s skin, and then to wonder how big Castiel would be in the end, and whether the spikes would turn to full-sized horns. For now, the dragon wasn’t bigger than a medium-sized dog from his head to the tip of his tail, yet he looked so much smaller when he had his wings tucked on his back. Dean could hardly imagine him attacking legions of enemies with his fiery breath, but on the other hand, he had just eaten three men’s share of goat meat, bones and flesh alike. Dean knew it was crazy, but damn him, he was sure Castiel looked bigger already.

As soon as he was done eating, Castiel looked up to face his new aviator; Dean could swear he would never get used to that intense blue stare.

“I would like to go flying now,” Castiel said.

Dean didn’t know much about being an aviator, but he was glad he had talked to Sam about at least this part. He couldn’t leave the dragon unattended; he was still too young, and untrained, and eager to leave. He needed to be harnessed, but the harness wasn’t ready yet. There was no guarantee that he would return, were he to leave now, and Dean didn’t know whether losing the dragonet to drowning was preferable to the reptile abandoning him, laughing in the distance. He just knew he couldn’t let the dragon roam around, not until some training steps were done. He had to discourage him and, if there was no other option, have him sleep in his cabin, where Dean could keep an eye on him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said gently, hoping to not offend Castiel; he had heard about the temper of dragons and he had no idea when that started. “It’s getting late; maybe you should rest.”

He didn’t know why, but he felt like he was talking to a navy officer; he didn’t want to sound informal in Castiel’s presence. He wondered if his words had worked and for a moment, as Castiel kept staring at him, he felt a hint of fear that he had annoyed the dragon. However, Castiel averted his eyes and looked into the distance dreamily.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said gently.

“Maybe you can go flying tomorrow,” offered Dean and immediately felt bad, because he knew he was lying.

“Yes, maybe,” Castiel agreed in an absentminded tone, and before Dean managed to say anything else, the dragonet approached him, much more gracefully than a creature born half an hour ago should have managed, and climbed on his lap. He curled up and closed his eyes, and before Dean even got over his surprise and put his hand over Castiel’s little shoulders, the dragonet was already snoring lightly, his slim body moving rhythmically against Dean’s skin.

Dean stared at the small creature for a moment and felt a wave of affection he didn’t expect. In his mind, dragons were fearsome creatures, arrogant, terrifying soldiers, or heartless lords. He hadn’t expected this one to feel so… familiar.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up, almost surprised to see Sam still there. He realised that it was almost dark now, and that he couldn’t move without waking Castiel.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asked his brother, just to say something, really.

“I didn’t leave,” said Sam softly. “Do you need to move?”

Dean looked at Castiel again, then back at Sam, and shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna bother him. Can you bring me dinner and a blanket? I think the little guy’s knocked out and it’s gonna be freaking freezing over here later.”

Sam nodded and left quietly, and came back before Dean had noticed time passing. He felt the blanket covering him and smelt the meat in what felt like two seconds’ time. He noticed Castiel’s nostrils flaring at the smell of food, but the dragonet didn’t wake.

Dean looked at Sam, who sat opposite of him.

“Look, man,” Dean started and surprised himself at the hoarse sound of his voice, “I’m really sorry about this. I know you’d ended up being pretty excited about the whole thing and I swear to the gods, I didn’t want to take this from you. And I forced the ship on you on top of that, but there was no other choice, because who else could take her? And--”

“Dean, for the love of the gods, stop,” said Sam, and Dean was worried for a second before he saw his brother’s shoulders relax and a small smile in the corners of his mouth. “I’m not blaming you,” he said. “I’ve studied dragons a lot, and if a dragon wants something, there’s not much that could stop him from getting it. Castiel picked you for reasons I can’t fathom, but he did anyway, and we couldn’t force me on him; he would be miserable, or rebellious, or both. Let alone the fact that I respect dragons too deeply to even consider doing something like that. It’s okay, really.”

Dean hadn’t realised how heavy his chest was until he felt the weight leave it. “So you’re not mad?”

“Mad? No way,” said Sam, and smiled genuinely. “A little disappointed, maybe, but I hope you’ll teach Castiel to like me and he’ll take me for a ride once in a while. I’m mostly worried about you. Are you going to be okay?”

Dean looked back at the sleeping dragon, noticing his silvery scales reflecting the first light of the crescent moon. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he said quietly. “Everything happened so fast today that I didn’t have the time to think about tomorrow. I guess it will just hit me suddenly, probably with a brick in the face.”

“You know, you _could_ remember all the encouraging words you were saying to the crew before,” Sam suggested. “When you thought one of them was gonna have to take care of Castiel.”

“What, the ‘promotion’ crap?” air-quoted Dean, and snorted. “That was bullshit, man. You know that. I ain’t getting a promotion, I’m going down. And I’ll have to _ride a freaking dragon_ , Sammy. I mean, are we serious? I can barely manage climbing the mast. How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Well,” Sam started, leaning back on his elbows, almost lying down, “there’s the harness, for starters. I don’t think Castiel would let you fall.”

“I’m not saying that he’d want me dead, I’m just saying I’m afraid of heights, since you wanna hear me say it out loud,” mumbled Dean, his fingers still absentmindedly petting the dragonet, before he remembered there was food and reached for it. Only when he tasted the most delicious salted pork there ever existed did he realise how hungry he was. Sam chuckled.

“Well, get over it,” he said, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m serious,” Sam continued. “You’ll have to get used to it. Those wings over there aren’t made for clapping. He’s gonna need to fly eventually, and he will want you with him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” murmured Dean. “I guess I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

“Well, you have to be ready anyway,” Sam said, with his teacher mode on, though not at full force.

Dean sighed. “There’s so much I have to be ready for, Sammy,” he said. “There’s getting used to heights, and there’s facing Dad, and there’s taking care of your promotion business back in town. And, Gods help me, I have to face Cassie.”

Sam’s smile, thank heavens, wasn’t as wide as Dean had expected.

“What?” Dean asked, only the tiniest part of him annoyed.

“Nothing,” said Sam, but Dean waited for a moment, and Sam went on: “I mean yeah, I knew you had it going on with Cassie. Not the right time, I know. But I had to.”

“You bet your ass it ain’t the right time,” snapped Dean, as quietly as he could. “Do you know how many aviators have families? None. Yeah, it wasn’t official with Cassie, but how the hell am I gonna go and tell her that I’m dumping her for a--” He made his voice a whisper. “For an overgrown lizard, for crying out loud?”

 “Dean—“

“I know, I know, he’s not a lizard,” Dean said quickly, sounding apologetic even to himself, “but how do you think she’ll see it?”

“Cassie’s a great girl,” said Sam, but to Dean’s ears it sounded like a fake encouragement. “She’ll understand. You don’t have to break it up. Maybe she’ll follow you.”

Dean snorted. “I don’t think she’ll appreciate a life of living among airborne soldiers, Sammy,” he said. “And I couldn’t make her choose me over the good, normal life she could have with someone else. No, it seems my life now is gonna be heights, and scales, and no sea at all, except for when I’m ordered.” _And no Sammy,_ he thought, but he kept that thought to himself. He was already getting too emotional and knowing Sam, if he dared say that, his brother would give up the Impala and come with him to become his manservant.

Sam just sighed. “Look, I know it’s difficult to adapt to this whole situation,” he said calmly, “But you know that you are not alone, okay? Maybe Cassie will still want to get married and have a family with you; actually, I think it’s very possible. And even if you don’t have her around, you can ask for help any time you want. I’m here, and Dad will help, Mom can talk to Lord Campbell to help you out, and the crew is still yours, Dean. You know that Ash would change the dragon’s freaking diapers if you asked him to.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, and if I gave him an extra bottle of rum.”

“That too,” Sam laughed, and he turned his eyes towards the ocean, while Dean looked back at the sleeping dragon. They remained silent for a while.

“I didn’t know how much you wanted a family,” commented Sam quietly.

Dean sighed. “Well, it seems I didn’t know it either,” he said. “I mean, I always thought that I would have it one day, because you know, that’s how things go. When the time was right, I’d get to have a family of my own. But I don’t know, maybe when you can’t have something, you start craving it.”

“Or maybe you realise several things about yourself during rough times,” Sam suggested. Dean only shrugged, and pulled the blanket tighter around him.

“You know what?” he said. “I think I’m gonna go to bed now. Can you help me move the little guy without waking him?”

Sam nodded. He put his hands gently under Castiel’s sleeping body and lifted him carefully, as Dean got back on his feet. Sam gasped; Dean looked at him, and saw Castiel’s tail had wrapped itself around his brother’s wrist. The smile on Sam’s face was almost fatherly.

Sam gave the dragonet to his brother to hold in his hands, as he led the way to Dean’s cabin, without saying a word. Dean didn’t break the silence. Castiel snorted a few times, but he didn’t seem to wake. When Sam opened the door to the cabin, Dean got inside and turned around to look at his brother.

“Thanks for everything, Sammy,” he said as quietly as possible.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Dean watched his brother leave and the door close behind him. He carefully placed the sleeping dragon on his bed and watched him curl his tail around himself and continue snoring lightly. Dean took off his boots and his coat, and crawled under the covers, trying not to wake Castiel. He blew off the candle beside him, leaving only the moonlight from the porthole lighting the cabin. He fell asleep watching the colours on Castiel’s back change shape and shade, and dreamt of nothing.


	3. Bond

The wind whipped Dean’s face mercilessly as Castiel’s speed surpassed anything he’d ever known. Growing up, Castiel had developed spikes and horns all over his body, but Dean was somehow managing to ride on his back without being bothered by them. He wasn’t afraid anymore, and he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been afraid of heights. He grabbed Castiel’s neck hard as they turned and turned between the clouds.

Then Dean looked down.

Beneath him was the ocean, as he’d always known it, calm and peaceful on a sunny morning. He tried to focus on a specific point and saw the Impala. It was far away, but he could see Sam on board, and Sam was in trouble. The crew didn’t trust him, Dean could tell. He could almost hear the voices of them mocking him, attacking him, and Dean wasn’t there to protect him.

We need to go back, he told Castiel. The dragon didn’t answer.

Don’t you hear me? We need to get back, Dean insisted. My brother needs me.

No, roared the voice of the dragon, sounding all around Dean. Nobody needs you but me. You gave it all up for me, remember?

He turned to look at Dean. His face was narrow, hostile, full of horns, white and blue-veined – it put Dean in mind of ice. Castiel’s tongue licked his dry lips, split like a snake’s and red as sin. His teeth showed, long as Dean’s forearm and marked with someone’s blood. Maybe it was Dean’s blood, maybe the crew’s.  Eyes, red like the fire that Dean could see was building up in Castiel’s throat.

Then Castiel blew his fire at Dean, and Dean felt his body melt around him, and he fell. He fell and fell, and he screamed, and nobody could hear.The ocean was getting closer, closer, closer, he would die any time now, just a matter of time—

Dean woke up with a startled cry. He looked around him, frantically trying to untangle himself from the covers. His undershirt was damp with sweat, stuck to him, and his face was wet, as if he had splashed water on it. The room was as hot as the deepest pit of hell, sunlight coming directly through the porthole. Why hadn’t anyone woke him up earlier?

Dean groaned and shook his head to get rid of his nightmare. He still felt his knees were a bit shaky, and he doubted he could get up. He checked the room again, and realised Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

He sprang from his bed, looking around. “Castiel?” he called uncertainly, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

There was a noise from under his desk, and Dean saw a small clawed hand reaching from underneath and grasping the side of the flat surface. Another one followed, and then Castiel’s head appeared, slightly tilted and looking at Dean curiously.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel said.

Dean let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Hey, Castiel,” he greeted and sat back on his bed, trying to steady his breathing. “What are you doing over there?”

“I was bored. I searched for something to do while you were sleeping,” said the dragonet and he let go of the desk, disappearing behind it again and producing several shuffling noises that forced Dean to hold back a laugh.

“Why don’t you come over here?” Dean suggested. “Lemme take a look at you.”

The shuffling noises stopped for a second, and then continued before Castiel appeared behind the desk and walked awkwardly towards Dean, slightly flapping his wings, as if to remind Dean he still needed to use them. Dean ignored the guilt trip, and he tapped his lap encouragingly. Castiel tilted his head and stared at Dean for a moment, until he seemed to realise Dean wanted him to join him, and obeyed. He curled up beside Dean’s left thigh and settled his head on Dean’s lap, his eyes still on his aviator’s face.

Dean started back at Castiel, unable to name his feelings. If nothing else, he was happy that the dragonet remained small and friendly, his eyes still the colour of the ocean surrounding them, even if he could swear that Castiel was definitely bigger than when he’d got out of the egg. Did dragons grow so fast? Or was it just this specific kind?

Come to think of it, what _was_ Castiel’s kind? He didn’t remind Dean of any dragons he’d ever heard of, but of course, he wasn’t an expert or anything. He had just loved dragon stories as a child, and there was never a silvery white dragon with tan wings and dark patterns all over his body in any of his stories. Could it be that Castiel was only born like this and would change afterwards? Shed his skin, maybe?

“So,” Dean started carefully, still trying not to offend Castiel. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” said Castiel.

“What—Uh, what kind… are you?”

Castiel tilted his head and frowned in a way that Dean thought was freakishly human. “What do you mean?” Castiel asked.

“I mean,” Dean started again. “Dragon kinds… have names. There are the Firebreathers, and the Strikers, and so many other subcategories. Which one are you? So, you know, so I know what to expect while you grow.”

Dean’s heart was racing in his chest. His worry that he had offended Castiel was growing by the second, but the dragonet just settled his head on Dean’s lap again, looking confused.

“I do not know,” he said, a little sadly. “Humans might have different names for our kinds. I was hatched only yesterday, so I don’t know what names my kind might have for our own. Nobody ever told me what I was going to be when I got out of the egg. Maybe they didn’t know either.”

Dean’s confusion grew as he looked down at Castiel. “What do you mean, they didn’t tell you? Do you remember things from when you were inside the shell? Did people talk to you then?” he asked, feeling rather ridiculous just thinking about it.

Castiel’s head moved in a way that Dean interpreted as nodding. “Someone did talk to me,” said Castiel, “but I don’t remember much. It was like a very long dream. And it didn’t give me any information about myself.”

“Who named you Castiel?” Dean asked, trying to stop himself.

“Nobody. That’s just who I am,” said Castiel simply. “Can I go flying today?”

“I’m gonna check with Sam, okay?” said Dean and put Castiel’s head on the bed before he got up. “Probably yes. But we don’t know until your harness is ready.” The moment after he’d spoke, Dean remembered he hadn’t mentioned a harness to Castiel before, and he wondered if the dragonet would get angry.

He didn’t. Castiel just said “Alright,” and raised his neck to look at Dean. “I’m hungry”.

“I’m gonna get you something to eat too,” said Dean. “Just wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Castiel nodded again and curled up on Dean’s covers. Dean put on his boots and coat and got out of the cabin, trusting Castiel enough to not lock the door.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t hard to convince Castiel not to go flying, but Dean didn’t feel good about it. He watched the dragonet eat more than Dean could ever imagine was possible for somebody Castiel’s size, and wondered what the poor creature had done in a previous life to deserve such an awful aviator as himself. He didn’t know anything about dragons, and he couldn’t even let Castiel go flying because he couldn’t control him yet. He had to take several deep breaths to steady himself and keep from panicking.

 _It’s all gonna be okay,_ he told himself. _You’re gonna make it. You’re like a new parent. It will come naturally to you, like when you managed to sail the ship for the first time. It’s not that different, it’s just a different kind of responsibility. You’ve got this._

Only no, it wasn’t like the first time sailing the ship. He’d practically grown up on the HMS Impala, and he’d seen people handling her hundreds of times, but he was clueless when it came to this. Plus, if something went wrong on the ship, there were plenty of other people to help him; the same people that were now looking at him sympathetically and patting him on the shoulder, and responding very well to Sam’s orders. One part of Dean was happy the crew seemed to be adapting to the new captain; a smaller, guiltier part was a bit annoyed. He did deserve a little chaos in his absence, didn’t he? He had done a good job all these years, he’d given his soldiers adventures all over Agorresh, and money, and fame, and he was feeling slightly betrayed seeing they hadn’t taken more than a fortnight to forget about him. Of course, he was still aboard, but how long would it take them to realise they didn’t need him anyway?

Dean shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. There were more important problems than his ego, with Castiel being the biggest one. Dean didn’t even know the species of the dragon he was about to spend his life alongside, for crying out loud.

He got up, exhaling in exhaustion.

Castiel lifted his eyes from the remains of the goat Dean had brought him for breakfast. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m gonna borrow a couple of books from Sam,” Dean answered. “Just wait here. Do you need me to bring you anything else?”

“I’d like some more food, if you please.”

Dean blinked. At this rate, they were going to run out of supplies much sooner than he’d predicted. Yeah, sure, it was a young dragon who’d turn out to be maybe more than a hundred times his current size, and he needed to eat, but _damn_. 

Dean could do nothing but nod.

* * *

 

Midday came and passed, and Dean had to admit he’d expected something more exciting from all the dragon-riding business. Castiel wasn’t the best company; he ate a lot (which Dean knew was normal, but he couldn’t help being a bit annoyed, and then feeling bad), and when he didn’t, he was bored because he couldn’t fly, so he slept. Dean noticed, with surprise, that probably he wouldn’t be able to sleep alongside Castiel that night; the dragon was already bigger, big enough to spread along the length of Dean’s narrow bed, not leaving much room for anything else. Dean would have to be a couple of feet shorter to fit in there too. He guessed he would have to move Castiel soon, otherwise he couldn’t get him out of the cabin.

While Castiel was sleeping, Sam visited. He didn’t stay long. He wanted to make sure Dean was okay, and that Castiel was okay too, and he looked tired; maybe he wasn’t ready to be a captain yet. But what was done was done, and there was no reason to cling to that. And no matter how stressed Sam was in his new position, he found the time to show Dean the best chapters to read from his books, before leaving with the promise to have the crew start fishing to get some more supplies.

Dean decided to start reading from a huge leather-bound red book that smelt kind of mouldy. He began by searching the several known dragon species, just in case he found something similar to Castiel. No luck; all the basic breeds seemed completely different to Castiel’s current appearance. He couldn’t be a Striker, or a Devil’s Seed, or an Anthrax, because all three species were black and aggressive, which was practically the exact opposite of Castiel. Eastern dragons were wingless, Emerays were shades of green, Firebreathers were blood-red and born the size of a pony. Locharts and Mergons were blue and wingless, Angel Dragons’ colours were far too bright and their wings had a few feathers between the webbings, which Castiel didn’t seem to possess. The tan colour in Castiel’s wings might have made Dean think he would turn out to be golden or copper later, categorising him as a Royal, if it wasn’t for the fact that Royals were born the size of an ox and were unable to survive without the heat of a volcano supporting them the first months of their life. Dean kept checking Castiel’s temperature, but it was a bit higher than a human’s, so he couldn’t be a Frostling, either, even if those were the most famous white dragons. Besides, the description the book gave for them and the images it had didn’t remind Dean of Castiel at all; they looked… angular. And their faces were strong-jawed and kind of scary. Dean couldn’t imagine Castiel growing up to be like that.

In conclusion, Dean had no freaking idea what kind of dragon he was about to raise. And that wouldn’t be a problem, except they all needed very different things, according to species; you couldn’t give a Devil’s Seed fish, for example, or you’d poison it, and you couldn’t trust it with anything, either. On the contrary, Eastern dragons made the best guardians, they were strictly vegetarian and generally would make the ideal pets if they weren’t about sixty feet long. You couldn’t approach an Emeray with a saddle before you had already flown with it, to prove you trusted it enough, but the Royal wouldn’t take you seriously if you didn’t prove your worth by forcing the saddle on its back and staying on it for the appropriate time, like a rodeo with an additional danger of being burnt alive along with the natural stomping and breaking all your bones.

Dean sighed and put the book aside, trying not to wake Castiel. The dragonet was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the headache he had caused Dean, and Dean envied him.

Dean leaned back on his chair and put his feet on his desk, closing his eyes. A part of him remembered reading all that before, when he was a boy, only back then he was reading it in rhyme and was doing the voices for Sammy. He liked to think he had played a part in Sammy growing up to be so obsessed with dragons in the first place. Then again, the libraries in their house and in Bobby’s (that strange friend of their father’s) were both huge, and Sammy was the one spending all his time there when they were kids, so he might have forced Dean to read him the first dragon nursery rhyme. In the end, it didn’t really matter who had started it.

A small smile grew on Dean’s lips as he thought about those times. He had ridden a dragon before, if he let himself count that. It was when Sam wanted to be Prince River of Fengayar, and Dean had settled for being the loyal Sir Athory Blake, and their adventures messed up history a little bit and took them searching for dragons and defeating sirens and sailing for the Uncharted Lands. They were going to be the ones greater than the heroes of the past, that’s what they always said. They were going to save princesses and marry into new kingdoms across the sea, and maybe tame the harpies in the North, and even defeat evil elven enchantresses and dark, demonic overlords.

But the overlords and the enchantresses were both endangered species those days, and the Uncharted Lands still kept their name proudly – even though, Dean’s adult mind thought, somebody who lived there must have made a map at some point – and the dragons weren’t the majestic deities their ancestors imagined and worshipped. No, they were soldiers, just like them, and they were serving King Roman and the Council of Twelve in the Capital, or the Queen Eve of Elavorn, just like everyone else. The human history in Agorresh had become a mess, and it was full of bad decisions and embarrassing scandals. Queens losing their mind and drugging their own people, rebellions that could have been prevented if a simple order was or wasn’t given, demons that roamed around the world like they owned the damn place and angels who either had stopped existing or were calmly watching the chaos while sipping their tea and discussing the new trends in feather styling. Legends said that the war would last a thousand years and that it would end up like the First Great War; the religious folk said that either the angels would come to fight the demons themselves (even if there hadn’t been a demon sighting for hundreds of years), or that Death himself would come down and the world would be turned to dust.

Dean thought all of that was plain bullshit.

He was a simple man, with a simple family. Well, his parents were nobles, but he had never thought himself above any sailor aboard his ship, and if he’d ever acted otherwise, it was only to keep the ship under control. He didn’t care about the wars of the Crown, or how some old idiots had messed up the world two hundred years ago, or why they were fighting. He had just come to dislike the enemies because that’s what he should do, and because they wanted him freaking dead just because he was born on the other side.

Dean didn’t really care about angels and demons either, because he couldn’t really care less about religion. He sometimes spoke the name of the God of Seas, or the God of Wind, just for luck and to make his crew feel better, but he’d never seen a God, let alone something as ancient and powerful as an angel or demon. He guessed they were real because that’s what everyone said, but for all he knew, what was happening was just a political war come from the priests of Elavorn, nothing more, and he really couldn’t see why it took so long for it to be over. The battles were slow and rare; the Elavorni planned an attack, their army acted it out, the dragons of the other side fought them back. The Crown sent aviators to demolish Elavorn, their army defeated them and sent them home whining. Dean knew he was probably going to die fighting, but he didn’t care if he was going to be killed by dragons or ship cannons if it meant that he managed to change something before he fell; he only cared that he would probably die in a pointless battle, just like most aviators before him, and that he didn’t even know why.

A clang made Dean jump and interrupted his thoughts. He looked at Castiel and saw the dragonet had knocked over the candlestick with his tail as he was stirring in his sleep. His eyes were open, looking both confused and sleepy, and were focused on Dean.

“Hey, Cas,” said Dean, surprising even himself with the easiness by which the nickname came to his lips. Castiel just blinked at it. “Bad dreams?”

“No, I’m just tired of sleeping,” answered Castiel and shifted a bit. “Is there anything else I could do, since I’m not allowed to fly?”

He didn’t sound angry or bitter, but guilt stung Dean like a wasp. Castiel was meant to be flying, not staying inside a poorly-lit cabin of a soon-to-be-disgraced former captain. Dean had to do something to make Castiel’s days worth it; he couldn’t have this as his first impression of the world.

“What would you like to do, besides flying?” asked Dean to buy himself some time. He remembered what he’d leafed through before: each dragon species was interested in different things; of course, there would be different amounts of obsession and varieties of interest, but there was no doubt that Royals were fond of gems, and that Firebreathers enjoyed sleeping on heaps of gold, or that you could make an Eastern adore you by singing to it. So it was a long shot, but it could work. “What would make you happy?”

Castiel thought about it for a while, so much that Dean started to think the dragonet was ignoring him. “Those ‘books’ you got from Sam,” Castiel started hesitantly, “what are they, exactly?”

Dean was caught by surprise. “What do you mean? You don’t know what books are?”

“I know they’re something important to you, but what are they? What are they good for?” Castiel insisted. He sounded genuinely curious, and Dean reasoned that there couldn’t be many books to look at inside a shell, but still, the conversation was weird.

“Well, books exist to tell you stories,” Dean tried. “They have information in them, or instructions, or just fairy tales so you can have fun when you read them”.

Castiel frowned. “How can an object tell you a story?” he asked. “Do books have voices?”

Dean huffed with laughter. Castiel might be a noble, ancient reptile who could speak formally the moment he was born, but his lack of knowledge of the real world was surprisingly refreshing for Dean and – come to think of it – kind of endearing; it was easy to forget how young Castiel actually was.

“No, they don’t have voices, exactly,” Dean tried to explain. “They have words written in them, and the words form the stories. And then the people read the stories.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I still don’t exactly understand it,” he said, sounding a bit embarrassed. “Can people take the sound of stories and turn it into something that can stay somewhere forever? It sounds like magic”.

 _Damn. Why hadn’t Castiel ended up with Sammy? They would have been a much better team_ _if Castiel sees writing as magic,_ Dean thought, slightly bitterly. It was amazing how a creature with better vocabulary than half of Dean’s crew combined had no idea how books worked.

“It’s not really magic,” Dean said. “You see, people have taken each sound our mouth can make, and they’ve made a symbol for it. Different combinations of symbols form words, and different combinations of words form the stories. It’s not that hard.”

Castiel was looking at him with eyes wide and expectant, so much that Dean laughed. Castiel rested his head on his front paws again.

“It’s wonderful,” the dragonet muttered. “You can actually _see_ sounds”.

It was such a simple concept, and Dean had never thought of it that way. Castiel was right. He smiled. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Castiel raised his head again. “Could you teach me how to read the stories?” he asked, his voice full of longing.

Dean smiled, his eyebrows rising up. “You wanna learn how to read?”

“Yes. I think I would like the stories,” said Castiel, in his usual matter-of-fact tone. He didn’t seem to care or realise that there were millions of different stories for him to read; he just seemed to value the fact that they existed. Or, Dean’s cynical part of the brain pointed out, he had no idea there was such a thing as book genres.

“Okay,” Dean agreed, deciding that no matter what, at least he owed Castiel a shot at the whole reading thing. He got up and fetched one of the smallest books he’d got from Sam; it was old and thin, the pages crumbled and at some parts coloured in. Sam never went anywhere without that book. It had stayed with him and Dean since they were kids.

Dean opened it with practiced ease, finding one of Sam’s favourite tales. “I’m gonna read it to you first, okay?” he said. “So you know what the story’s about. And then I’m gonna show you what the words mean.”

Dean had no fucking idea how to teach a dragon to read, but he found that he really wanted to find out.

 

* * *

 

It turned out very soon that Castiel wasn’t a bad student at all. Dean would bet his ship that there was a skinny bespectacled professor out there somewhere cursing him with all his heart for finding the kind of listener he had always wished for, but Dean couldn’t really feel too bad about it. He was having too damn much fun with Castiel to care.

Dean decided to read to Castiel stories that had something to do with dragons, wanting to keep him interested. He suspected that the dragonet would still enjoy the experience even if Dean was talking to him about the freaking mating habits of snails, but it was not the time for such a challenge; Dean didn’t know Castiel well enough to show his true colours. Plus, who knew, maybe during the storytelling one of them would pick up a detail in a dragon description that could give them a lead on what the hell Castiel’s species was.

Dean read to Castiel the legend of Sassandra, the First Dragon, the one who created the rest of her kind, and who later fought alongside an angel and a demon to defeat the Gods when they had gone off their rails; he read to him the tale of the elven warrior who was saved by a dragoness, and who gave up everything to stay with her, and how they shared blood and turned into half-elves, half-dragons, both of them. There was a similar story, one of a low-born, bohemian woman who had saved a dragon egg from where it was kept and took it back to its brother, and the brother was eternally bound to her; the story went on the same way as the previous one, with the blood oath, and the woman becoming more powerful because of the dragon blood, newly pumping in her veins, and with the dragon following her in the shape of a human from then on, changing forms whenever he chose to. Dean thought it best to not tell Castiel the story of how the dragons fought for the mortal races in the Great War, and how Death came to earth and punished them by making them mortal as well; it didn’t seem fair to make a creature whose age could still be counted in hours wonder about death.

Castiel took to reading very easily, learning how to do it in less than two hours. He treated the books Dean showed him with great respect, as if they were the pure essence of magic that kept the world spinning. He barely touched them, he just hovered one of his talons across the lines, his lips moving slightly as he read the words. Dean couldn’t stop his grin; Castiel was so human it was really surprising. Dean didn’t use his finger to find the words while reading, so it must have been an instinct Cas had that hadn’t been copied from anyone.

The next week passed in pretty much the same way. Castiel stayed in Dean’s cabin, eating, sleeping, and reading. He was reading faster than Dean already, and he was asking for more books every day, but he sometimes asked Dean to read to him. Dean didn’t complain, even though it was probably the most non-stop reading he had done in his life. He liked seeing the wonder in Castiel’s eyes as he was listening to stories he’d heard before, as if every word coming from Dean’s lips was a reason to live. A guilty little part of Dean knew it kind of was that way, since, according to Sam, Castiel still shouldn’t go flying, and even though he was wearing his harness, it was only so he could get used to it. Every time he was going to sleep, Dean took it off him, and every time he woke up, Dean put it back on, every time astonished at the alterations he needed to do. The men were already making a new, bigger harness for Castiel, and Sam had managed to find some time to make Dean a pair of goggles for when he would be able to ride on Castiel’s back - although when that time would be, none could say.

The truth was that Castiel was growing very, very fast, more so even than Dean had expected. At the end of his first week outside his shell, Dean had to get him out of the cabin and move him on deck – and it was just about the right time, because he was already the size of a small horse, and he had to fold his wings tightly on his back to be able to move through doors. He was moved outside to the front of the ship, along with a few things for Dean to make his own “nest”, as he called it, close to him. The crew, thank the Gods, wasn’t uncomfortable with Castiel’s presence, and they had proved themselves more than willing to provide the extra food that Castiel needed, and the comfort they thought their ex-captain deserved. They did look a bit intimidated by Castiel at first, not expecting him to be that different from the lizard-like creature they remembered, but Castiel was polite with them at the worst and very pleasant at the best, so it didn’t take long for them to just accept and even enjoy his presence and move on.

The reading sessions went on as usual, and Dean was happy to see that Castiel enjoyed the sunlight and the salty breeze, even if he couldn’t make the most of it. Dean got used to not staring at the dragon much because the weather had been good, the sun was usually out, and Castiel’s scales were so blindingly white that Dean’s eyes wouldn’t start watering after a while. But he did look at him a lot, and he started noting the changes he saw as Castiel grew - mentally at first, written down after a while. Castiel’s face looked slightly more angular than it used to, which Dean interpreted as loss of baby fat. The blue patterns on his back were starting to get more defined, rather than looking like random spots, and they had started to spread on the base of his wings, which were losing their tan colour and becoming whiter as time passed. His body was longer and his neck was flexible and elegant, and his movements were like a dance Dean couldn’t guess the steps of. He used his front legs to walk, but Dean suspected it wasn’t necessary; the biggest mass of weight was in Castiel’s lower half, not his chest, and Dean was sure he’d be able to walk on two legs if he tried. He had seen him trying to grasp a dip pen, sometimes, trying to teach himself to write when he thought nobody was watching; but even though the structure of his front paws was still more similar to human hands than actual paws, he had grown out of the proper size to grab such a small object before he was able to perfect the act of grasping and balancing it. He hadn’t told Dean anything, so Dean hadn’t brought it up.

The second week was harder for both of them. With Castiel now staying on deck, direct contact with the outside world was inevitable, and Dean wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep the dragon from flying off. Dean had asked Sam again and again and he’d checked on the books himself, but every single time he was reminded that Castiel shouldn’t fly without Dean for the first time, and Dean shouldn’t ride on Castiel’s back until at least a month had passed since the dragon hatched, and his neck and shoulders were wide and strong enough to keep a six-foot-two grown man steady without being injured. Dean had trusted Castiel not to be aggressive about that specific kind of information and had let him know why he wasn’t allowed to fly, and Castiel had accepted it with dignity and a nod, even though he had looked disappointed. Dean couldn’t blame him. Castiel was a little more than two weeks old; asking him to wait another two to do the thing he wanted most in the world was asking him to wait until his age practically doubled. A part of Dean thought that was stupid – it was just two weeks – but he couldn’t help feeling that for Castiel it was a big deal. And yet, he had to wait. He just settled for making Castiel’s days as pleasant as possible, by reading his favourite stories to him and telling him of the places and cultures and creatures he had seen in his experience as a captain, giving him a taste of his own food to try, just to have the experience of something different, and sleeping alongside him in a hammock at night. At the end of the second week of Castiel’s presence on the ship, Dean spent most of the night reading his favourite story to him again - the one of the elven warrior and the dragoness.  Sometime around dawn, he curled up next to the drowsydragon and fell asleep against the curve of his rear leg and his belly. The next day Dean found himself shivering, his clothes hard and cracking from the salt, Sam above him grinning like it was his birthday again. Castiel seemed content, though, and that was somehow enough for Dean.

On day eighteen of Castiel’s presence on the ship, the sky grew dark. Threatening black clouds were looming ahead of the HMS Impala, the occasional strike of lightning defining their shape, thunder following loyally. The sea was darker, with angry foam rising, making the inexperienced eye wonder whether it was just the waves or a sea monster emerging from the depths. The ship swung drunkenly, the sound of men yelling orders at each other getting lost under the noise of the ocean.

Dean moved Castiel to the centre of the ship to balance things out. At his current size, Castiel was a good two feet taller than Dean when he raised his head up, almost three if he stretched. His wristswere about the size of Dean’s thigh, and Dean didn’t dare tell Castiel to spread his wings to measure them. So if one thing was certain, it was that Castiel couldn’t stay in any place that would ruin the ship’s balance.

Dean patted Castiel’s shoulder reassuringly, and looked around. The crew ran frantically around the ship, trying to get her steady and ready for the storm. Dean had seen such storms, and he knew it wouldn’t last for long, but it could be dangerous nonetheless. He wasn’t worrying as much for his ship and crew, but he was keeping in mind that Castiel had only experienced sunshine in his short existence.

“It’s okay, Cas,” he muttered against Castiel’s head. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine, I promise. Nothing to worry about.”

The storm didn’t take long to come their way. The Impala rocked with force Dean hadn’t seen in months. The rain was pouring furiously, and Dean had to try very hard not to yell orders here and there. He had to admit that Sammy was doing a very good job, though, and everything was going well. What he had to do was stand by Castiel and comfort him.

Surprisingly, Castiel didn’t seem to be bothered by the storm as much as Dean would have expected; dragons were supposedly creatures of fire, at least most of them, and Dean had ruled out the dragon races that enjoyed water when it came to guessing what Castiel actually was. The dragon remained still, his eyes wide open and looking around, but Dean had started understanding him well enough to know it was an expression of curiosity, not fear or worry. Castiel was standing as far as he could from the sailors doing their job, so as to not bother them, and Dean was keeping close.

Lightning ripped the sky in two and thunder rolled at the same time. They were at the eye of the storm, and Sam’s shouts were barely heard.

Castiel’s head turned to look over the deck for the first time in hours, his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Cas?” Dean shouted to be heard over the noise. “Everything alright?”

“A man fell in the ocean,” Castiel replied calmly. Dean’s jaw dropped.

“Crap,” he muttered. “Wait here,” he told Castiel and turned his back to him, intending to call someone from the crew.

“Dean, wait!” Castiel yelled behind him. Dean stopped and looked at him. The dragon’s expression was indecipherable, but Dean could swear he could see a trace of eagerness in it.

“I’m going flying now,” Castiel announced, and before Dean could say anything, the dragon had already spread his wings – holy crap, they were _huge!_ – and whipped his tail against the wind.

Dean saw Castiel’s rear legs take position to lift him off as if he was moving way, way too slowly. “No, no, no, no, Cas, _no!”_ he cried and, as if he was hypnotised, he ran and jumped on Castiel’s back, right on top of his harness, just a second before the dragon lifted off.

“Ohshitohshitoh _shit,_ ” muttered Dean as he wrapped his arms and legs around Castiel’s neck, trying to not look down. The wind was almost hurting the exposed parts of his body, the raindrops whipping his skin and making Castiel’s scales slippery. Dean grabbed the leather straps of the harness and twisted them around his hands as much as he could without hurting Castiel, and settled his legs on the dragon’s shoulders, his heartbeat racing against his ribcage. He felt the motion of Castiel’s muscles under him, and it _was so freaking weird_ , and holy shit, this was so much different than his dream. Castiel wasn’t as creepy, yeah, but damn, if people were meant to fly they’d have their own set of wings.

Dean squinted to protect his eyes from the rain and looked around him, trying to make out a human shape in the water, because he shouldn’t forget why Castiel had left the ship so early. The problem was, Dean couldn’t see a thing, and Castiel was going too fast, scanning the area as well.

“Cas, slow down!” Dean yelled, hoping the dragon would listen. Castiel obeyed, and to Dean’s surprise, he stopped mid-air, hovering, his wings beating the wind in a strange, reverse-circular motion. Dean was even more uncomfortable, but at least thankful he had a reprieve from the worrying speed.

“The ship is going North-West,” yelled Dean and pointed. _Fuck_ , they were high. “We should follow the route backwards, whoever fell in can’t be far!”

Castiel made a movement like a nod and took a worried look at Dean, like a warning. Before Dean could prepare himself, Castiel had already dived. Dean fought very hard not to close his eyes; the sooner they found the man who’d fell off, the sooner they’d get back somewhere with something solid under their feet.

Castiel was flying fast, the tips of his toes barely touching the water. His head was moving side to side frantically, and Dean was trying to follow his movement.

His eye caught a white spot in the middle of the darkness.

“There!” Dean shouted and he pointed to his right. Castiel, without turning his head to look at Dean’s hand, flew fast in the right direction. Dean could see it clearly now; it was Andy, trying desperately to stay afloat. Thank heavens for this crew’s determination in not wearing the proper navy clothing. If Andy had been wearing the dark blue uniform he was supposed to, Dean never would have seen him.

“Go lower, I need to grab him!” Dean ordered, and Castiel obeyed, trying to avoid the point where his wings would get wet from the waves. Dean wrapped the straps of the harness around his left hand a couple more times, and he reached out with his right hand, leaning over Castiel towards Andy. Andy looked at him, coughing water, trying to move towards him; his eyes were wide, but whether in terror or relief, Dean couldn’t say.

“Grab my hand, Andy!” yelled Dean as he reached further. Andy went under the waves for a moment, then his head appeared again. He swam as well as he could and reached for Dean. Dean grasped, but both his hand and Andy’s were wet and slippery. The second try failed as well. The third time, Dean grabbed Andy’s wrist, along with some fabric from his sleeve, and pulled as Andy’s other hand was reaching too. Before Andy could settle in front of Dean on Castiel’s shoulders, the dragon was already flying towards the ship.

By the time Dean realised they were back on the ship, he was already slipping off Castiel’s back, sliding off the dragon’s wet scales. His knees and hands met the deck more violently than he would have hoped. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at; these random spots he was seeing weren’t there before. He heard the sound of applause, as if from far away, but it couldn’t be, nobody _applauded_ on his ship. He thought he heard his name and Andy’s a few times, and then he felt large hands put an _almost_ dry towel around him and squeeze him a bit. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness, but it only felt worse. Trying to get up, he found his knees had turned to water. He reached for something to hold on to, and found himself leaning on a huge, warm, scaly mass. He felt a warm, fast breath on his face as his fingers held on Castiel a bit more tightly than Dean would like to admit.

With his vision clearing a bit, Dean looked around him, suddenly feeling exhausted. The crew had already led Andy somewhere warm, and the few who had stayed behind to check on Dean were looking at him with something that felt like affectionate concern, and with – could it be? – admiration. As soon as they saw him return to consciousness, they went back to business; the storm was still raging. Only Sam stayed behind, still beside Dean.

“Are you alright?” Dean heard Sam’s voice ask, from somewhere from his left. He looked at his brother tiredly. Sam’s face was still worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” murmured Dean. “Just go take care of Andy, will you?” he said, trying to make his voice sound steady – a difficult task, since his body was still shaky, and he was still depending on Castiel’s immovable bulk beside him to stand up.

Sam just nodded. “Okay,” he said obediently, and took a few reluctant steps away from Dean. He turned around. “Just so you know, that was a great thing you two did back there. And also, pretty freaking amazing.” And he left.

Dean blinked a few times, almost forgetting where he was. The information about what was happening around him didn’t really reach his conscious mind. He could barely process what had just happened.

He felt the warm weight under his right side move a little bit and he remembered he was still depending on Castiel to stay standing. He took a hesitant step backwards to test his legs’ strength, and took a deep breath, focusing his stare on Castiel.

The dragon was staring at him in that strange way of his, his bright blue eyes examining him. Dean almost felt naked, but to his surprise, he found he didn’t really mind; he felt like all his secrets were an open book for Castiel, but he didn’t care if he shared them with him.

He had just flown on the dragon’s back.

Dean took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled noisily, trying to comprehend what he’d just done. Castiel seemed a bit apologetic, as if he had read Dean’s thoughts.

“Dean?” Castiel said quietly. Dean looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I flew off like that.”

Dean blinked at him, losing his words for a moment. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t—“

“Cas, you saved a man’s life today,” said Dean. Castiel tilted his head and stood very still. “If you hadn’t taken the initiative, Andy would be dead, and nobody would have even noticed until the storm was over. It was a very brave thing that you did.”

Dean watched as Castiel first blinked in confusion and then, as he realised what he was being told, his face brightened. Dean couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was, exactly, since dragon mouths couldn’t smile, but he _knew_ Castiel was smiling at him. At that moment, he realised it was probably the first words of praise Castiel had ever heard. He immediately felt a burning hand of guilt clutch his insides. What was he doing for this creature? He certainly didn’t see Castiel as his child, but he had a feeling he was already turning into his big brother or something. Angry at himself for not seeing this earlier, Dean tried to clear his mind.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “You did carry both of us.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m a little sore, but I’m alright.”

Dean nodded. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s find a drier corner to sit until the storm passes.”

He led Castiel toward the door of the Captain’s cabin, where the wind couldn’t reach. Castiel curled up and lifted his wing so that Dean, who quickly accepted his place as the very, very little spoon, didn’t get any wetter. Dean patted the dragon’s abdomen gently.

 _You can do this,_ he thought. _You won’t neglect him. He needs you, and if he wants a friend, you’ll be there. If he needs an aviator, you’ll fucking become an aviator. You’ll be whatever he needs, because he chose you, and that’s a big deal. You’ll be there for him, and you will like it._

“Thanks for everything, buddy,” he said quietly and folded his arms on his chest, knowing that he couldn’t possibly sleep, but feeling way too exhausted to try and help the crew. For a while, Castiel remained silent, and Dean wasn’t sure if he had heard him.

The dragon’s eyes were already closed when he muttered “thank _you_ ”. Dean didn’t answer, but he felt the corners of his mouth rising up.


	4. Headquarters

“Dean.”

“Hmfff.”

“Dean, wake up.”

“Mmm gonna be up ‘n a min’te.”

“Dean, I can see the shore. If you don’t get up, I’m flying off on my own.”

Dean could already see red behind his shut eyelids, and he knew the sun was up, but he just didn’t want to get up. The two weeks after the storm had gone by, he had curled up beside Castiel at night, and even if he would never admit it, it was the most comfortable he’d ever been. Meaning, he really, really, _really_ didn’t want to leave his spot.

He opened his eyes with great effort and shut them again as direct sunlight hit them.

“Cas, what is it?” he groaned, his eyes reluctantly getting used to the light. He tried to focus on Castiel’s eyes instead (which were a few inches closer than needed), pleading with him wordlessly.

“We’re about to reach the shore,” said Castiel slowly, but his impatience was tangible. His voice had dropped a bit as he grew older, making him sound even more serious than before. “I don’t want to see the city for the first time from a _ship_. Sam says we’ll be there in about three hours, but I want to see it from above first. Please?”

“Cas, it’s really, really early,” Dean murmured, though apparently not convincingly.

“Yes, and it’s time for me to go get something to eat, too,” Castiel insisted. “You don’t want to have the crew go fishing for me, do you?”

Dean groaned, but he knew there was no chance he could escape this. Ever since Castiel had flown off to save Andy, he had been allowed a couple of flights per day, with Dean on his back more often than not. At least he was catching his own food, and sometimes, more than that; there had been a few days where the entire crew had feasted on what Castiel had brought back. So Dean knew that if he kept refusing to go flying so early, Cas would soon have the support of the crew.

Muttering under his breath, Dean got up. He could swear Castiel was bouncing inside; he preferred to fly with Dean, and Dean liked seeing him pleased. But Gods forbid, they were all lucky Castiel actually bounce. His size had almost doubled again in the past two weeks, even though a bit differently than before. He was almost twice Dean’s height without even stretching, and while his body mass hadn’t changed that much – if he resembled the size of one horse in his first week, he couldn’t be more than three times that much _at most_ at the beginning of his second month – but he already looked, _felt_ a lot different. Each wing was almost double his body’s length when stretched out, and that was saying something. Dean thought that Castiel’s neck and tail were much longer in proportion than what they’d been before. His scales were bright white, blinding in the morning sun – so much that Sam had had to take a pair of goggles for Dean and dye the lens darker so that Dean could have his eyes open when flying – and his wings resembled less and less the bat-like wings Dean had expected from a dragon; the skin was strong and thick, and had started growing scales as well, the whiteness and the dark patterns spreading on them. The spikes on his back had not, thankfully, turned to horns or anything, and weren’t sharp at all; Dean thought of them more as bumps than anything else.

Generally, Dean thought, Castiel was turning out to be a really good looking dragon, even though they still had no idea what kind of dragon he actually was. Dean found he didn’t care; Castiel looked badass, and the fact that he didn’t know his effect on people made him even more likeable. Dean had tried joking once by telling Castiel he was going to have a lot of success with the dragon ladies as soon as they met more from his kind, but Castiel only tilted his head and said he didn’t understand why that was important. The next few minutes were spent with Castiel asking a series of awkward questions and Dean feeling more and more stupid; the result was that Dean never tried to compliment Castiel for his looks again. In the end, he thought, maybe not all dragons were as vain and arrogant as the stories made them seem, and if nothing else, Dean was born human and couldn’t possibly know what was considered attractive in a dragon society, and he really had no interest in learning. So he left it at that, and focused on what was lying ahead of him each day.

Right now, for example, Dean was keeping an eye on Castiel as he stretched.

“No time for breakfast?” he asked, a little more pitifully than he would have liked.

“No, you’ll have time for that later,” Castiel said impatiently. “I can catch something for you, if you like. But let’s leave.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Dean muttered. He ignored the subtle rumbling of his stomach and put on his boots clumsily. He waved at Sam who was passing by in a rush, and wondered for a moment if Dean himself had looked like that every morning when he was acting as captain, but he decided not to let his mind go there; even though it had been a bit over a month, it was still hard for Dean to know he had lost the rights to the Impala. Trying to shake it off, he left the coat he used for cover at night aside, and kept only his shirt to cover his upper body. He took his goggles from their corner and put them on his head, then patted Castiel’s neck.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I was the one waiting for you,” Castiel pointed out, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. Dean took Castiel’s new harness from where they’d left it last night – at least Sam hadn’t seen it lying around because damn, he sounded like a parent when there was a mess on deck – and Castiel lowered his head so Dean could put it on him. Dean tightened the straps around Castiel’s legs, neck and underside, and grabbed them tight. He put his left leg on Castiel’s lowered left shoulder and tried his step with a couple of bounces. He heaved himself on Castiel’s back and positioned his other leg over the dragon’s right shoulder, then put his goggles on and gave Castiel a slight tap.

Castiel’s wings spread and his hind legs crouched.  Dean held on tightly. He felt the strong muscles under him shift and tense and then he was in the air.

Dean could still feel the moving ship under him, and ignored the slight dizziness that always followed a take-off. Castiel soared, thankfully at a sensible speed, Dean thought; they’d both learnt the bad way that Dean’s stomach couldn’t stand vertical high speed. As soon as they were high enough for Castiel to be satisfied, the dragon slowed down hovered still, using that strange motion of his wings that Dean found so interesting. Castiel’s long neck turned to the west, and Dean could actually feel him smile.

“Look,” Castiel said quietly, but Dean heard him. “Land.”

Dean couldn’t keep himself from staring. He’d never seen land from above, and he had to admit that no matter how uncomfortable he was in mid-air, sometimes it was worth it. The land of Agorresh lay before them, the Elaurans Cove visible from where they were floating. The outline of the city could be seen, as well as some of the larger ships in the harbour and right outside it, en route for the city. Dean could feel Castiel trembling with anticipation beneath him, and wondered how it felt to see civilisation for the first time in your life. So far, the only thing Castiel had known was the ocean and the inside of a ship.

“What do you think?” Dean asked.

Castiel didn’t answer for a second; he only started flying again, lower this time, and slower than usual. “I’m not certain,” he said in the end. “It’s strange. I can barely wait to be there and see for myself what is so special about a human city, but on the other hand, I do not wish to leave the ocean. I suppose I will have to get used to it, but I would like to visit the sea sometimes.”

Dean smiled fondly. He was always amused when Castiel talked. Dean had been so eager to be formal with him when he hatched that Castiel had probably thought that was the only way to speak, even if Dean had been his usual cursing, blasphemous self with him ever since he started feeling more comfortable around him. Or perhaps, that _was_ the reason he started feeling comfortable around him. But he didn’t mind; it wouldn’t be _Castiel_ , he thought, if he didn’t speak with long words.

“Come on, big guy,” Dean said. “Let’s go fishin’ while we’re at it.”

Castiel went lower. Dean had never understood how, but the dragon had an amazing talent to spot large fish while flying, and catch them with his tail, of all things; some of the spikes on the end of it were big enough to cause injuries, and when he whipped his tail inside the water, he could throw a fish out and catch it in his mouth. Dean had gaped for some time after he first saw the trick, and even two weeks afterwards, the word “badass” came to mind more times than he would admit.

One manta ray and two swordfish later, Castiel went higher again, flapping his wings lazily. They were getting closer to the shore, since they were following the route of the Impala. The city was clearer on the horizon how, the colours more specific, the forests around it more beautiful than Dean remembered. He had, of course, been on the sea for about six months, but that didn’t matter.

They flew in silence for a while. When the sun was high enough that Dean had to squint inside his goggles and was about to ask Castiel to go down, he felt the dragon tense.

“What’s up, Cas?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing important,” said the dragon. Dean huffed.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Spill it.”

Castiel hesitated. “I’m just worried, that’s all,” he admitted. “We’re reaching the shore, and now we’ll have to meet the people who will take us in the army, right?”

 _Damn_. Dean hated the idea that someone as innocently brilliant as Castiel was meant to be nothing but a common soldier. But he had had to explain to him what was gonna happen, and Castiel had accepted it easily, and Dean hated that even more. He took a deep breath.

“Yeah, Cas. That’s right. Why are you worried?” he asked.

Castiel took his time again. Dean waited.

“Are there going to be more dragons there?” Castiel asked gently.

Dean felt his mouth dry. “Yeah, Cas. ‘m afraid so. We’re not gonna meet them immediately, but when they take us to our regiment, then yeah, there are gonna be dragons.” He thought about it. “Are you scared of other dragons, Cas?”

“No,” Castiel answered quickly. “Not exactly,” he added more quietly. “I’m not scared of them, I’m just… wondering if I can ever be one of them.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Dean, we don’t even know my breed,” Castiel pointed out impatiently. “We don’t know what I am any more than what I can do. What if…” he paused. “What if I embarrass you in front of them? What if I’m not as good as the others?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You can’t mean that, Cas,” he said. “Why would you say something like that?” He felt Castiel’s muscles stiffen under him and stroked the dragon’s neck absentmindedly.

“We know nothing about me,” Castiel said. “We don’t know what I’m capable of, and I haven’t any other dragons to compare before I’m asked to join the actual forces. We don’t know if I can breathe fire, or if I will grow gills or how much I will change. I’m not even in Sam’s books. I might not even be a dragon, for all we know.”

“What else could you be?”

“I don’t know. Something not as good,” Castiel answered.

Dean remained silent for a while. He knew what it was like to feel incompetent, and he didn’t want Castiel to feel that way, not so early in his life, not ever.

“Now, listen to me,” he said in the end. “I don’t care _what_ you are, okay? I don’t care about your breed. Hell, you know better than anyone that I didn’t _choose you for your breed_. And I don’t care about your abilities. If you can breathe fire and cause earthquakes and shit like that, then good for you and good for our future fellow soldiers, and too bad for the ones against you. But if you don’t have these crazy powers, well, that’s okay, you know? You’re awesome, and you’re smart – fuck, you’re smarter than me already and you’re like a month old – and you’re gonna do perfectly fine. Okay?”

Castiel didn’t speak. Dean wondered for a moment whether he’d hurt the dragon’s feelings, and after a while more, whether Castiel had heard him at all. Just as he opened his mouth to say something – probably something stupid, anyway – Castiel turned his head a tiny bit and looked at him with the corner of his eye.

“Thank you,” he said, and damn, Dean could hear the smile in his voice again. He smiled back.

“No problem, buddy,” he said. “Now how about we get back to the ship? We’ve got our baggage to prepare”.

Castiel obeyed quietly, and they didn’t speak another word until they reached the shore.

 

* * *

 

Dean hadn’t expected the enthusiasm of the crowd.

To be honest, Dean hadn’t even expected to see a crowd at all, but he guessed the news about one of the city’s ships bringing back the remains of an Elavorni ship along with a freaking _dragon_ spread quickly. He was surprised to see foot soldiers keeping the citizens in order and out of the length of the docks and the main street leading into the city. Flags with the three golden dolphins, the symbol of the city, were waving all over the place. Dean didn’t remember having seen anything like that ever again in his life; it was like they had won the war already.

Out in the dock, when the crew disembarked, Dean saw a familiar face.

“Captain Winchester,” Rufus Turner greeted before Dean’s foot even touched solid ground, his eyes locked on the younger man’s.

Dean saluted. “Vice-admiral Turner,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to address my brother like that from now on, sir.”

Dean had known Rufus Turner for years, but he couldn’t address him in a friendlier way in front of all these people. He could see in the older man’s eyes, though, that he cared in his own way for the Winchester family, as he always had.

 Rufus turned to look at Sam. “Congratulations on your sudden promotion, son,” he said, taking out a cigarette to chew on. “Even though it’s not yet official, so you’ll pardon me if I ain’t yet calling you captain.” Sam saluted. “Now,” Rufus continued, “where’s the damn reason for your change of ranks?”

Dean turned his head towards the ship. Castiel was lying as low as possible behind anything that could hide his twenty feet of length even a little bit, not wanting to show off. At Rufus’ words, or maybe because he felt the green light from Dean – Dean could never be sure – Castiel rose slowly. Dean heard the crowd gasp, and he saw the cigarette falling from Rufus’ lips before his attention was fully on Castiel. The sun glistened on the dragon’s scales, and Dean had to admit he was so used to seeing Cas, _his_ Cas from up close that he had forgotten to think about how other people might see him.

Castiel looked around him, and Dean was sure that he was the only one who had noticed the uneasiness in Castiel’s eyes.

“I’ll be damned, kid,” Rufus muttered next to Dean. “What is that?”

“That’s a dragon, sir,” Dean answered, not really intending to sound sarcastic.

“Yeah, I can damn well see that,” Rufus said. “I mean, what the hell kind of dragon is it? I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“We don’t know yet, sir,” Dean answered. “I’ll have to look it up.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Rufus said, and Dean looked at him questioningly. The Vice-admiral didn’t explain himself any further. “Come on now,” he said and took out another cigarette, “we’d better go to the Headquarters. Bring that dragon with you”.

“Permission to fly him there, sir?”

Rufus eyed Dean carefully. “Permission granted. I’ll be waiting for you at the Headquarters, Captain. Don’t be late. And stay low.” Rufus seemed to think about that for a second. “I mean, keep a low profile. Don’t fly low. We don’t wanna lose either any building tops or the beast himself. The rest of you,” he yelled at the crew, “you’re dismissed. Except for you, Commander Winchester. I’ll have you at my office right now.”

 Dean and Sam both saluted as Rufus turned around and some soldiers opened up the main street again for him to pass by. Sam gave a last look to Dean and followed Rufus. The rest of the crew scattered, most going to find their relatives and friends in the crowd. Dean stayed behind, and looked at Castiel.

“How’re you holdin’ up, buddy?” asked Dean.

Castiel didn’t look at him. “We’d better go, we don’t want to keep your superiors waiting,” he said. Dean sighed, knowing Castiel was right. He approached him and put on his goggles, more out of habit than because he actually needed them – the city didn’t have as many blinding surfaces as the open sea. As soon as Dean was settled on the dragon’s back, Castiel flapped his wings a couple of times and took off to the sounds of gasps and applause.

Dean knew Elaurans better than he knew the back of his hand, and the number of times he had walked the road from the harbour to the Headquarters must have been a high four-digit number. What he had never done, though, was to see this road from a ninety degree change of angle.

The city looked so different from up here. Dean could see the brick road splitting in small alleys and in big highways, full of people and carts and carriages. The brown-red roofs of the buildings stood no more than three or four floors above the ground, and the pale, pleasant colours of the house walls could be seen even from above. Most of them had balconies with wooden bars and colourful houseplants, and lamps outside the door, and their street number written in brass plates. Dean could see the market in Mist Street, and the circus performance in Crescent Square, with the colourful banners and huge tents and joyful movement and the jingle and shine of coins. The wind brought the smells back to him, and as much as he loved the salty scent of the ocean, he welcomed the smell of roasting fish and fresh vegetables and flowers and dirt and _people_.

“Hey, Cas?” he said loudly, so that the dragon could hear him over the sound of the wind.

Castiel turned his head slightly. “Yes, Dean?”

“What do you think?”

Castiel didn’t answer at once. Dean saw him turning his head from one side to the other, and taking it all in. “I didn’t know you could fit so many things on land,” he said in the end. “Everything looks so… complicated. There are so many colours. It’s so different than the ocean.”

“Good different or bad different?” asked Dean, smirking.

“It will take some getting used to,” answered Castiel diplomatically and Dean laughed.

“Come on, let’s look around town for a while,” he suggested. “Even with a carriage, it’ll take some time for Rufus and Sammy to reach the HQ, and we don’t wanna have to wait for them to finish their talk. Lemme show you around my hometown.”

They flew over the city quietly, and Dean was genuinely happy to be home, even for a little while. He saw the city watch on their posts, most of them playing dice or cards in their boredom, and snorted in amusement. He’d never report them; they had no proper jobs to start with anyway.

Dean nudged Castiel to fly higher, and they soared only to stop at a point where Dean started feeling his stomach tense; it was much different flying over the ocean than above these pointy roofs that could turn you into shish kebab in the slightest slip of your grasp. Dean held on tighter and took a look around him, grinning despite the fast beating of his heart. The horizon was clear in front of him, the hilltops followed by lavender mountains, the large river glistening like a shiny snake between them. The entire city became a blur of colours and patterns beneath them. Dean looked down.

“There,” he shouted and pointed at a high spot of the city. Castiel turned his head to look. “On top of that hill there’s the Northern Palace, and around it are the mansions of the noble families. Around the mansions and the pretty places are the Military, Navy and Police Headquarters, and from then on are the nice neighbourhoods, getting worse and worse until you reach the walls of the city where are the really crappy places. See that dome over there by the Headquarters? That’s where you’ll be staying for a while, until we figure out what to do with the whole ‘change of authority in the ship’ and ‘change of army division for the former captain’ crap.”

Castiel didn’t say anything; he was just watching. Dean felt the need to keep talking, just to get rid of the awkwardness. He had the feeling that Castiel was uneasy and didn’t like it one bit.

“Cas, what’s up?” he asked.

“Let’s get to the Headquarters,” Castiel repeated instead of answering. “We don’t want to keep your superiors waiting.” He dived.

Castiel landed by the dome Dean had showed him, startling a few guards. Dean glided off the dragon’s back, almost enjoying the scared looks of the soldiers. There were five of them; three saluted, two pointed their spears at them, and then saluted after receiving nudges in the ribs from the others. It was more than obvious that they hadn’t expected to actually meet a dragon when they were assigned with guarding the dragon dome. Aviators rarely came to this place.

“At ease, privates,” said Dean as casually as possible, not wanting to intimidate the poor bastards any more. “I’m just gonna leave Cas here with you for a while, okay? Keep him comfortable, I’ll know if he’s not pleased.”

“Sir, yes sir!” said one of them, a blonde freckled boy no more than seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. He approached them, giving Castiel a nervous look every now and then, but he was definitely more confident than the others, who took a step back when they saw someone else volunteering.

“Follow me, sir,” said the kid, unlocking the huge bronze door of the dome, and he turned to Castiel quickly, as if he was struck by lightning. “You too, if you please, uh, sir, would you be so kind as to follow me? Into the dome?”

Castiel moved inside slowly, steadily, as soon as the door was opened. He didn’t speak to the soldier. Dean gave a forced thank-you smile to the kid and followed Castiel inside. The dome was made of iron and copper and glass, and Dean calculated it was made to accommodate at least a score of dragons quite easily. There were several spots, in the floor or above the ground that reminded Dean of nests, and he supposed that was what they were – well, substitutes of, at least.

Castiel looked around and snorted. He curled up on a nest, but Dean could see he was uncomfortable. He sat beside him and patted his massive shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” he said. “Just wait here a lil’ bit and I’ll be back in no time. You won’t have to stay put for long.”

Castiel didn’t speak at once, but when he did, Dean could taste the sadness. “It’s not going to be much different in the Aviator Order, though, is it?” he asked quietly. “I’ll still be put in a dome especially made for dragons, and we’ll be together only in training or in battle, and I’m not looking forward to either of those.”

“Well, that’s our job,” explained Dean uncertainly. “We’re soldiers. That’s what we do. Even the dragons of the Council in the Capital live in a dome.”

“Those are bred for serving humans”, Castiel complained. “I was born in the ocean.”

Dean laughed half-heartedly. “What would you have us do, then? I’ll welcome any plausible ideas.”

“I don’t know. Can’t we just make something up and leave?”

“Here’s my little revolutionary,” commented Dean with a huff. He put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and rubbed gently. “Look, it’s gonna be alright, you hear me? We’re gonna make it. And I’ll bet you anything that we’ll have time to ourselves. For reading. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“I miss your bed,” said Castiel and Dean blinked in surprise.

“Say what now?”

“I miss the time when I could fit in your bed,” Castiel repeated, and Dean would have been completely creeped out if it hadn’t been a huge reptile who said this to him. Who couldn’t possibly know any other meaning that his words could have, had they been spoken by literally _anyone_ else. But Castiel was _Castiel_ , and Dean waited for him to go on.

“It was a simpler time,” the dragon continued. “Nobody would expect us to fight if I were small like I used to be. We could stay in the ocean. You wouldn’t have to leave your ship and I wouldn’t have to be a soldier.”

Dean sighed. “Look, Cas-”

“And I dislike seeing you sleep out in the cold just to stay with me. You shiver every time a breeze blows.”

“Wha – no I don’t!”

“Yes, you are. You’re trembling, every time.”

“Cas, listen to me,” Dean interrupted the dragon’s thoughts. He thought about it for a few moments, as Castiel was looking intensely at him, and realised he had nothing to tell him. He took a deep breath and improvised. “I’ve been a soldier for a while now, okay? It’s not that bad. You get to meet great people and… and bond with them. There’s hardly ever any fighting, to be honest, this war has been going for so long that’s it’s just traditional for us and Elavorn to give a couple of battles per year. We’re gonna meet other dragons too, Cas, and you’re gonna be the most awesome one there. And I promise we’ll take trips to the ocean every now and then, whenever we’re free, okay?”

Castiel didn’t answer; he just turned his head the other way. Dean felt like an idiot. He was talking to Castiel as if he was a child who needed comforting. That wasn’t what Dean should be doing, and that wasn’t what Castiel needed. Besides, Dean thought irritably, Cas was a big boy now, and Dean was doing his fucking best to please him. He hadn’t asked to be a dragon baby sitter anyway – which, okay, wasn’t the best thing for him to think of, but he was right, wasn’t he?

“Cas-” he started, but Castiel interrupted him.

“If the war has been going on so aimlessly for so long, why doesn’t it stop?” he asked. “Do you like killing the people from Elavorn or are you just used to doing it?”

Dean felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He opened his mouth, and found he had no words. He closed it again. He inhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for philosophical questions, Cas,” he said, more sharply than he meant to, and he got up. “I’ll be back when I’m done with Rufus. Just stay here and don’t cause any trouble.”

He turned his back to Castiel, and heard the dragon lift his head up. He kept walking.

“Dean, can I—“

“No, Cas, you fucking can’t,” Dean snapped without looking back, and he left the dome. He passed the young guards who saluted as he walked out, and when he was sure they couldn’t see him, he rested his back against a wall. He clenched and unclenched his fists and tried to steady his breathing. A sting of guilt was poking his insides, but his blood was boiling in anger. Damn it, Cas had no right to ask questions like that. He was a dragon, he was something Dean would ride to go to war and win the fucking thing, because that’s what his father did before him, and what everyone did, and because he would protect the people in his country like that. Cas wasn’t supposed to put thoughts in his mind, he was meant to obey. Wasn’t he?

Dean closed his eyes. Great. Now he had insulted Cas several times over, even if it was only inside his head and Cas never actually heard it. More guilt was exactly what Dean was looking forward too. He pressured his mind not to think about the matter of giving up the ship and making Sam captain as well as everything else, because he was pretty much sure he would explode.

Not for the first or last time in his life, Dean swallowed his pride and feelings and entered the Naval Headquarters.

 

* * *

 

Dean reached Rufus’ office without having to interact with anyone, to his angry satisfaction. He leaned on Rufus’ door and pressed his ear against it. Silence. Sam had probably left already, which suited Dean just fine. He didn’t want to talk to his brother, not at the moment. He knocked at the door, waited for the grumpy “come in,” and entered. He closed the door behind him, pressed his heels together and saluted.

“Oh, cut the crap,” said Rufus and he got up from his desk, approaching Dean slowly. Dean relaxed, dropped his hand from his forehead and let his gaze wander. He had always liked Rufus’ office. It was simple, with nicotine-coloured walls and old, out-of-fashion drapes always dancing in the breeze of a half-open window.  In the middle of the room there was a heavy, dark brown desk with a mess of papers on it, stained by ink and alcohol, just like the air here. Dean could have recognised the smell of that office from miles away. Behind the desk, the wall was full of shelves with books probably older than Rufus himself and a ship in a bottle, and in front of it were two chairs half-facing it; Dean always thought of them as comfortable, despite everyone else’s opinion on them.

He looked back at Rufus, more relaxed than before. Rufus eyed him carefully.

“So, I talked to your brother,” Rufus started. Dean didn’t say anything. Rufus waited for a bit and sighed. “He says you made him captain after you found that dragon.”

“That I did, sir,” answered Dean. “Sam’ll make an excellent captain, I’m sure of it. The ship is in good hands. He’ll serve the Navy better than any other.”

“Uh-huh”, Rufus nodded and lit a cigarette. He spit some tobacco. “Look, I understand if you want to leave for the salary,” he said. “I know how things are, but you need to consider that it pays better because it’s more dangerous.”

Dean stared at Rufus for a few moments. He’d never actually thought of that. “To be honest, I have no idea what the salary’s like over there,” he admitted. “Is it better?”

Rufus huffed. “Yeah, right. Add a couple of zeros to your monthly income now and you’ll have a general idea,” he said. Dean blinked in surprise.

“Seriously?”

“You really didn’t know?”

“I was more occupied handling a teenage dragon than checking what I was gonna get for it.”

“It’s okay, I believe you. I know you ain’t a money man anyway. I was just checkin’.” Rufus drew in a puff of his cigarette and stared at Dean. “So this promotion ain’t got nothin’ to do with you wantin’ your family to keep the ship?”

Busted. Still, Sam was a good captain; Dean knew it, and if Rufus had any doubts, he wouldn’t have them for long. Well, Dean could think of possible answers. “I believe the ship has been given to the Navy by my family as a loan anyway, sir,” he said, “so the whole thing is hardly about the ship being steered by a Winchester.” _Liar, liar, pants on fire_. “Sam is dedicated to the Navy and he’ll do a good job filling my shoes. Just let him prove himself.”

“Oh, I have no doubts about Sam being good at what he does,” said Rufus and he returned to his chair, leaning it back. He gestured for Dean to sit on a chair; Dean obeyed. “I have to tell you, though, that I don’t think Sam is the one to be the captain of the HMS Impala.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Then, who should it be? It’s obvious that I can’t continue being in charge, this whole dragon thing counts as an obligatory sacking, or resignation, or some kind of both, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well-”

There was a knock, and the door opened before Rufus could speak – whether to deny or allow entrance, Dean would never know. In the door frame stood a smirking woman, and behind her was a scrawny man about Dean’s age, maybe a little younger, that was apparently trying to become invisible.

Dean eyed the woman as he got up. She had honey-coloured wavy hair, green eyes and a posture that Dean knew too well; military, certainly, but not much caring about the right way to stand and all that crap. Instead of the midnight-blue navy coat he would expect her to be wearing in this building, the woman was dressed lightly, in tight, cinnamon leather pants that showed off her shapely legs, knee-high leather boots standing on heels, and a simple tan tunic, held together by a brown belt on her slim waist, full of loops and pockets. She was wearing weathered leather gloves, and she was holding a short thick jacket and a pair of brass goggles in one arm. Her reptilian smile was emphasized by the red neckcloth she was wearing, and it widened when she saw Dean looking at her. Dean immediately decided he disliked her.

He looked at the young man behind her. He was skinny and unshaven, and his clear blue eyes looked around nervously. His face was red and his light hair was pointing in all directions. His dressing was similar to the woman; leather pants and boots, a cotton tunic, and he was still wearing his jacket. Dean noticed the man’s forearms and legs were covered by protective leather armour. Dean couldn’t wait for him to move around, he was bound to have some fun with the leather noises. He saw the man swallow in a way that made his Adam’s apple move visibly, and look at the woman, as if he was waiting for her orders, which he probably was.

The woman turned her stare from Dean to Rufus.

“Vice-Admiral Turner,” she greeted politely and saluted lazily. Her accent was clear, full of round vowels; from the Capital, Dean assumed. “I’m Wing Commander Bela Talbot on Abaddon, and this is Officer Cadet Garth Fitzgerald, wingless. I believe you have been informed about our arrival?”

“As a matter of fact no, I haven’t,” said Rufus coldly. “And it’d be nice if you Capital kids freaking knocked before you broke into a room.”

“Didn’t I?” asked Commander Talbot innocently. “I thought I did. I assumed you were waiting for me, so I thought there was no point in me waiting for an answer.”

“Never thought we country people would have more manners than you lot,” muttered Rufus. “Now that you’ve invaded my office, could you take a hint and wait outside? I’m tryin’ to have a talk with Captain Winchester here.”

“Dean Winchester?” asked Commander Talbot and eyed Dean in a way that made him want to punch her nose. Her green eyes locked into his and she smirked. “Well, well, well. I’d have thought he’d be older.”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Dean said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What exactly is it that you’ve heard about me and my disappointing age?”

“Easy on the hostility, soldier,” said Commander Talbot and Dean felt his previous meal coming back up to his mouth. “The Order of Aviators received the news about that dragon you found, and they sent us to see what the deal was.”

“Well, I’m the deal,” snapped Dean, and a part of him was surprised. Commander Talbot was lower in rank than he was, but the aviators were so respected by the rest of the military that a freaking private could theoretically give Rufus orders. And yet, Dean couldn’t bring himself to talk formally to her. Damn him, the time he had passed with Cas had lowered his ability to keep his soldier face intact. He tried to focus on reality and not think about Cas. “Could you let me know what do we do, now that you found me?”

“Oh, lots of things,” smirked Commander Talbot. “But not exactly what you’re imagining.”

“Try me,” challenged Dean, unable to stop and mentally slapping himself.

“I’m sure you have a very vivid imagination, Captain, but let’s not get excited,” Commander Talbot mocked, so lightly that Dean wasn’t a hundred percent sure about it. “First things first. Vice Admiral Turner will excuse us, I’m sure.” She eyed Rufus with meaning, until he blinked in surprise.

“Are ya kickin’ me out of my own damn office?”

“Of course not, Vice Admiral. I can’t even think how you’d get such an idea. But now that you mentioned it, a little privacy would actually be really nice, thank you. Officer Fitzgerald will inform you about our purpose here, I’m sure, while I talk to Captain Winchester.”

If looks could kill, Commander Talbot would have been lying on the floor in the middle of her own entrails by now, but Rufus seemed to decide he didn’t want troubles with the aviators; one wrong word to the wrong ear could put his career in jeopardy. He put another cigarette in his pocket and gave Dean a meaningful look – as in “anything happens and I’ll gut her” – and left, with poor Garth (Dean couldn’t possibly think of that man as anything but his first name) on his heels.

Commander Talbot closed the door and looked at Dean again, smiling like a cat. “So,” she started, “where’s that dragon of yours?”

“At the dome, waiting for me,” Dean responded, putting some emphasis on the second part of his sentence.

“I see,” said Commander Talbot. “Pity that my own has gone hunting. They could start bonding. And what breed is he?”

Dean put a great effort into not grimacing. He couldn’t view Castiel as anything else as a person and his breed being the first thing to be asked about him made him uncomfortable. “We don’t know yet,” he answered honestly, even if he hated admitting ignorance in front of this woman.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” said Commander Talbot casually and Dean blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Commander Talbot eyed him. “I don’t see why you’re offended, soldier,” she said. “You were trained to be in the Navy, not in the Air Force. We are trained from childhood to be able to recognise each and every dragon breed as easily as you learned to sneeze. Hell, we could all recognise a breed by using only one of our senses at a time. And you seriously expected to look at the dragon and name the breed? _You_? Are you serious?”

Dean couldn’t count to ten, but he managed to reach two and a half before he spoke. “First of all it’s _Captain_ , I haven’t been a foot soldier for years,” he said, congratulating himself for his calm tone. “Secondly, I’d fucking love to see you tell a dragon breed by licking the creature, if nothing else just to see the dragon’s face. Even though I can’t imagine the training you’ve gone through, it must be brutal. And thirdly, I have to let you know that I did my research. My brother, who happens to be my _Commander_ , is a dragon genius, okay? So he has books on board, and neither I nor he could find out about Cas’ breed. I don’t know what he is, but you’re allowed to try and find out. As long as you don’t start lickin’ him or anythin’, cause I swear there will be blood.”

To Dean’s surprise, Commander Talbot laughed. “Captain or not, you really do have a sailor’s mouth,” she commented as she walked around the office absentmindedly, poking at things and making Dean want to slap her hands away. “Not that it matters, anyway. It’s not like you would be judged for it in the Aviator Order. We’re pretty loose with our behaviour rules, as long as you respect authority. But again, it doesn’t matter.”

Dean didn’t really like her tone. She acted as if she knew something Dean didn’t, and the fact that it might be the case pissed him off even more. “And why is that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve gotten my impression on you,” she said, sitting in Rufus’ chair and crossing her legs. “And I think it’s safe to say that we don’t need you in the Order. So you might as well keep on being a sailor, _Captain._ ”

Dean was prepared for anything but this. “What?”

Commander Talbot looked at him straight in the eyes. “I said, you can have your ship back. We thank you for taking care of the dragon-”

“Castiel,” croaked Dean.

“Okay, for taking care of _Castiel_ ,” continued Commander Talbot, “and thanks for letting us know at once. But you’re not trained for it and you won’t be either encouraged or allowed to continue interacting with him. He needs someone who knows everything about his kind, who _wanted_ to take care of him. You took care of him because you had to, but someone else will be better for him.”

“And who will that be?” Dean snapped. “You?”

Commander Talbot snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course not, you twat,” she said, not bothering with proper behaviour anymore. “Didn’t you pay attention? My dragon’s name is Abaddon, I’ve been taking care of her since I was thirteen. No, it will be Garth.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “The kid out there?” he exclaimed. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“That ‘kid’ is about the same age as you, if I’m not mistaken, and he has been excellently trained to be an aviator since he was a child, contrary to _you_.” said Commander Talbot coldly. “He will be the one to take care of Castiel from now on.” She got up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Dean sharply and put himself between her and the door. “Look, missy, I don’t fuckin’ care if the kid has been wantin’ his own pet dragon for a freaking century. Cas chose me, alright? I ain’t givin’ him up to someone else!”

“I’m starting to believe _you_ were the one who chose him, Captain,” said Commander Talbot. “I believe it was supposed to be your brother Samuel to take care of the dragon? Why did that change?”

“I told you,” Dean said, his voice shaky with anger. “When Cas was born, he chose me to take care of him, he came to me and told me his name.”

“I highly doubt that,” Commander Talbot said. “It’s unheard of. A dragon will imprint on the first person who talks to him and faces him. If it had been your brother, he would have chosen your brother. And the fact that you claim such an outrageous thing as for the newborn to have given a name to himself before he even hatched only shows your ignorance. You are definitely not qualified to take part in something so much bigger than yourself.”

Dean felt his anger rise up in his chest and explode from his mouth. “Why the fuck won’t you listen to me?” he yelled. “He told me his name! Sam was pleading for his attention and Cas just-”

“If it’s a medal of honour you want, you shall have it,” Commander Talbot interrupted him, without paying any notice to his anger. “For your services and commitment to the Crown. I cannot guarantee a prize in gold, but if you promise not to make a fuss, I might drop a word to the right ear. You might even get a promotion.”

This wasn’t happening, Dean told himself. A couple of months ago he would have been popping a bottle of champagne to this kind of news, but now the only thing he felt was a black hole in the pit of his stomach. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice hoarse, weak. He hated it. “Cas is my… Look, you have a dragon. You know what it’s like. He’s my… he’s my friend, okay? I can’t give him away to a stranger, like an old pet! How am I even going to tell him?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Commander Talbot casually. “We’ll be the ones to tell him. You don’t have to see him anymore”.

Dean didn’t want to believe what he was hearing to be hiding under that sentence. He gave it a last, desperate shot. “No, I believe I should be the one to tell him,” he insisted.

“Did I say ‘don’t have to’?” Commander Talbot asked innocently. “I meant ‘you can’t’. He’ll be told what happened by Garth, _his aviator._ ”

“He will not accept it,” Dean said, more confidently than he felt like. “He will look for me.”

“No, he won’t,” said Commander Talbot, smiling kindly. “And by that I mean no, he _won’t_ look for you. Yes, he _will_ accept it. We can tell him you died on duty.”

Dean should be angry. He shouldn’t feel empty and weak. “He won’t believe it. I was with him less than an hour ago.”

Commander Talbot shrugged. “Then we can tell him you died getting mugged. Or that you chose to go back to your ship. If he’s your “friend”, he must know how much you love that floating menace you pirate your way around on.”

“Did you just call me a fuckin’ _pirate_?” Dean snapped. “You know freaking _nothing_ about me and I won’t allow you or your Order to come between me and Cas,” he snapped, poking the woman’s shoulder and regretting it at once. She stared down at his finger, then up at his eyes, a raging fire burning inside her glare. She stepped closer to him, and he felt a slight pressure down his stomach. He looked down. Damn. Of course. They were given guns in the Capital. Dean didn’t even notice where she was keeping it or when she pulled it out.

He looked at her.

“Oh, I do know you, Captain Winchester,” she hissed. “I know people. I know your weaknesses, and most of them have names. Do I need to say Sam, Mary, Cassie..? Don’t look at me like that... you should have been more careful. I only need to ask one question, and you’ll be ruined. Keep me at your friends’ side, because two can play this game. Go against us, and you’re fucked.” She smiled. “Do I make myself clear?”

Dean swallowed and tasted nothing but bitterness. “Yeah,” he muttered unwillingly.

“I didn’t catch that,” she purred.

“What, you want me to bend over or somethin’?” he snapped. “You won. Enjoy the trophy. Now fuck off.”

“Oh I hope so, one day,” she said. The pressure on Dean’s stomach was slowly removed. She stepped back and her smile widened. “It was nice meeting you, Captain. If you ever want to resolve _this_ , I’ll be in the Capital.”

“If I ever want to give up everything and come find my dragon, you mean?” asked Dean quietly.

She laughed. “I had angry, kinky sex in mind, but yes, a duel for a reptile’s honour would be a welcomed routine-breaker too,” she said, and Dean had been wrong, he _could_ actually hate her more. She shrugged on her jacket. “Oh, and in case my first guess is right, do call me Bela next time, _Captain_. Cheerio.”

And she left, leaving Dean more alone than ever.


	5. Vow

“Dean! Gods, are you okay?”

Dean groaned and downed another gulp of his whiskey out of the bottle – the second one for the night. He was vaguely aware that Sam sat on the stool next to him, and that his brother’s hand was on his shoulder, but he couldn’t exactly place what was happening.

“Dean,” Sam repeated, as if he wanted to make sure Dean could hear him.

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean murmured. Sam probably didn’t hear him in the noise of the inn, but Dean didn’t really care. He didn’t feel like talking, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like listening. What he felt like was consuming large amounts of alcohol, and maybe putting himself in the middle of a good fight, and if he was expelled from the Navy, so what, maybe _Bela_ was right and he would be better off as a fucking pirate, and hey, maybe he’d lose Cassie again, but at least in this case he could try to insult her by bringing her fancy stolen gifts instead of dumping her for a dragon. For now, he was content with the dim light of the inn, and the smell of sweat and food and drink, and with getting drunker and drunker. It was what he deserved, right? He wasn’t better than these folk around there.

“Dean, come on,” he heard Sam say, and he would have rolled his eyes if that didn’t make his head hurt like it had been stabbed by a motherfucking dagger. “Talk to me. I know what happened. Rufus had just prepared the papers for my succession to the Impala, and then this happened. True, he was going to try and persuade you to stay, he values you a lot as a captain, but he had the papers ready. He didn’t know, Dean, don’t get mad at him. Those guys just came in, and I swear it was that damn woman’s fault, the guy she had with her was freaking terrified, he didn’t want anything to do with all this mess.”

“Sam –“

“Rufus is looking into the law right now,” Sam continued, “and we’re both pretty sure what she did was illegal. She can’t take Cas from you, Dean, we won’t let her. Rufus will –“

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean yelled, banging his bottle on the counter, making a good number of heads turn his way. “Don’t you get it? It’s over. I was just a – a babysitter for Cas, that’s all, I shouldn’t be his freakin’ rider, okay? She was right to take him away. We’re better off like this.”

“You don’t mean that,” said Sam, and damn it, not with the puppy eyes again. That just wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, I really fuckin’ think I do,” murmured Dean. “He wasn’t supposed to come into our lives anyway.”

Sam didn’t answer. Dean downed the rest of his drink, clumsily flicked a silver coin towards the bartender and got up, taking the bottle with him. He turned his back to Sam, and even though he could feel his brother’s pleading look on his back, he didn’t stay, or even turn around to face him. Damn it, he couldn’t handle feeling guilty on top of it all.

He walked down Host Street, between the majority of the city’s inns, and onto the Golden Road, the neighbourhood of the red lights above the doors. It wasn’t really golden, no way; it’s just that the lamps were decorated with brass, making them look like gold when they were polished (they never were), and the inhabitants of the houses were definitely worth their gold. Dean didn’t know if he wanted to go in tonight. He was far too drunk and far too upset for it, and Cassie was still his… something, and if she ever found out she wouldn’t hear the end of it. He dragged his feet across the cobblestones and hoped the smell of vomit in his nostrils had nothing to do with him. He heard the catcalls, and he saw the pretty faces and the red dresses and the occasional oiled muscled bodies that weren’t female at all, at least not that Dean could tell, but he wasn’t up for it. He didn’t know where he was going, to be honest. To Hell, was his guess.

Who was he kidding? Bela knew her way around the military. In a battle of ships and pirate hunting he would crush her like a walnut under a boot, but politics and rules and all that crap, that was her area. He didn’t have a snowball’s chance against her. And maybe it was wrong to challenge her like that. If she did keep her word and decided to bring him down, he would not only lose his place in the military – which he didn’t really care about, now that he dared to think of it, he had just followed the family tradition – but the ship too. It would be impossible to get the Impala if he was kicked out of the navy, since she had been donated by his father when he joined himself. And Dean couldn’t lose the Impala too, he thought desperately. He didn’t even dare to think about Bela’s threats against his family, because then he would lose his mind.

Damn it, there’d been nothing but desperation inside his head ever since he’d left the damn headquarters. Everything had gone wrong. Yeah, he had hated the idea of being an aviator at first, and he hadn’t chosen it in the first place, but goddamn, it had turned out to be a much better prospect for his future than life in the ocean had ever been. Well, yeah, he fucking loved the ocean, and the Impala, and Sam’s company, and his crew, and the wind on his face, but…

He sighed. It all came down to Cas. Castiel, that magnificent, indescribable creature who had changed his life. He couldn’t fool himself; Castiel had been a friend for him. He listened to him, and he respected him, and his mind generally worked in such a different way than anyone else Dean had ever met and he made him feel… well, to be honest, he didn’t know. It was just that he never had a best friend before, he had spent all his life with Sam, who was awesome but he was his _brother_ , and on the ship everyone had been either his superior or his subordinate. With Cas, he was family without being actually family.

And he’d sent it all to hell.

He couldn’t forgive himself for all this. Cas had hit jackpot with that damn war comment he’d made, which of course Dean should have expected at some point. But Dean hadn’t expected it, he didn’t know what to answer, not yet, maybe not ever. And he’d turned to that damn defence he had developed over the years, after a million fights with his father: anger, attacking his opponent, the best defence is a good offence, that kind of crap. Castiel didn’t deserve it. He never had. And it was the last thing he’d ever heard from Dean. _No, Cas, you fucking can’t._ Dean didn’t know what it was that he had denied Cas, he only knew that he had denied him _something_ , and if he had a chance, he’d never deny him anything, ever again.

Dean didn’t know what was worse, Castiel thinking that he’d had given up on him or that he was dead. If he thought Dean was dead, he would be crushed – or at least, so Dean thought, and cursed himself for hoping so – but at least he would have some closure. Or would he be haunted by the thought that he had no idea whether Dean went angry or sad or having forgiven him? And if he was told Dean didn’t want him anymore, what would he do? Would he think it was because of their fight? Would he get angry and forget him, or come and find him and burn him alive for his nerve to challenge and insult a dragon?

Dean didn’t know, and was a little worried at the fact that the option of getting killed didn’t worry him as much as it should have.

He kept walking until there was no light from the windows, except from some few trembling yellow rays through shut drapes. The sound of his feet made him sleepy and the sharp pain in his heels nudged him to go lie down somewhere. He didn’t even know where he was. His feet might have led him somewhere familiar, but his head was light from the drinking, and for all he knew, it might have been tomorrow night and this could be another city and another reality, where dragons didn’t exist and sailors remained sailors, and never were foolish enough to become captains.

When he collapsed, he didn’t even notice.

* * *

 

Dean woke up on the street, trying to remember anything, anything at all from the previous night. Ah, of course, the black hole of despair in his chest. There it was. And the headache from the drinking? Check. And the dirt all over his uniform? Check. Man, was he in trouble.

He got up, his legs a little wobbly, and squinted at the morning sun. He looked around. Where the fuck was he? Was that Crescent Square? Great. At least he had fallen asleep close enough to those circus tents, so that any people passing by might have thought he was one of the performers and he hadn’t completely disgraced the Navy just yet.

Fucking _great_.

Well, at least he knew how to get home. Well, by “home” he meant the Impala. He couldn’t go to Cassie’s, as whatever it was between them wasn’t official, and he definitely wasn’t desperate enough to go to his family’s house just yet. He might have lost his best friend and his job stability and the will to live and to contact any living soul, but he wasn’t _that_ bad. Say, it wasn’t like the future of the country and the lands around it and the moon and stars depended on him talking to his father. Until that day came, he would avoid the family place; Mom would be willing to get out of that hellhole and meet him, and he could meet Sam anywhere they wanted, if not on the ship.

Dean’s head throbbed as the thought of Sam brought back some memories from last night. Something about Rufus trying to find a way out of that aviator deal shit. He groaned loudly, making a few people look at him, as he passed through the market. He couldn’t let Rufus go through all that. He needed to go and tell him to not do anything stupid. In fact, he would have to go to Headquarters anyway. In the best scenario, to tell Rufus to give up, and then to apologise for any trouble his behaviour might have caused with the aviators; in the worst case, to quit and go become a pirate. Who knows, he might actually look good in an eye patch and a couple of golden teeth and a few tattoos. Yeah, he had always liked tattoos. And he would get his ear pierced. And wear a bandana on his head. His freckles would go nuts if he didn’t have the occasional time on shore that the Navy offered him, that was for sure, but who cared. He wouldn’t let his hair go long, though, it would just make his neck burn hot. Maybe just a beard. Yes, yes, there was no pirate who respected himself and didn’t have a beard, or at least a goatee, for style’s sake. And if he couldn’t have the Impala, he’d get another ship, paint it white, carve a dragon on the bow and name it –

He mentally slapped himself. He wasn’t at that point, not yet anyway. He was still captain of the Impala, as far as he knew, and he desperately needed something to wake him up if he wanted to keep it that way.

He got into the nearest inn, checking in sudden panic if he still had his money after a night sleeping in the street. Turned out his money pouch was still intact. He downed a good quantity of what the plump woman behind the bar called “the besht remedy for hangoversh, shon,” between her few, rotten teeth. Even though Dean had no idea what in the name of crap was in this abomination of a drink, and had literally zero desire to _ever_ learn, he had to admit he felt a freshness inside his brain that he hadn’t felt for hours. He even started to comprehend more of what was happening around him, like the fact that it was almost noon and he hadn’t let anyone know where he was or had been the past at least twelve hours. He asked to use the inn’s “private room”, as the barwoman called it, to wash his face, mouth, and neck, and to pee a river until he was pretty much sure he wouldn’t need to interrupt his meeting with Rufus for any embarrassing reasons.

Leaving the inn, he got a slice of angel food cake from the barwoman and left her a couple of copper coins more than she had asked. She had managed to wake him up, hadn’t she? He ran to the Headquarters as fast as his still-throbbing head would allow him.

He stopped running about a block away from the building, thanking his fortune that he didn’t have to pass by the dome, and leaned against a wall to catch his breath. He did his best to fix his uniform, and walked to the headquarters with his head held high, hoping that he would at least keep his dignity. He nodded at the guards as he entered.

“Shit, you look terrible.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to face Sam. So much for his dignity.

“Hey, Sammy. Before you start, no, I don’t need my life to be more miserable, so you can hold back the comments about last night, okay?”

Strangely enough, Sam just shrugged. “Whatever you say, man,” he said. “I’ll have you know that Rufus is looking for you, though.”

“Sam, no,” groaned Dean. “I told you, he can’t fix it. Didn’t you tell him to stop trying?”

“Well, I would have, but stuff happened before I had the chance. Anyway, I’d better go.” Sam turned away.

“Hey, hey,” said Dean and caught his brother’s shoulder to stop him. “What stuff happened? What did I miss?”

“No, I’m not falling for this, you told me I shouldn’t make your life more miserable,” said Sam, and it wasn’t with his usual bitchface; Dean even thought his brother looked _amused_ , for crying out loud. “You’d better talk to Rufus. I’ll be at the inn, celebrating a promotion.” And he left.

Dean stood there speechless for a moment. What the hell was the deal with Sam? What promotion? Did they make him captain? Then what did that make Dean? Not that he cared, no sir; he was just insulted that nobody told him he was kicked out. Okay, he wasn’t easy to find last night, but still, there was a bored guard in every corner; if the word got out, _somebody_ would find him. They should have told him. And if he was kicked out, was Sam’s promotion really enough for him to be happy, despite his brother’s shame? Or was it Dean they promoted? _Why on earth_ would they have done that?

Okay, he _really_ needed to go to Rufus’ office.

Dean strode there angrily. He didn’t really appreciate his world collapsing like that. If his life was going to be ruined, then he was going to bring it down with axe and hammer, but damn it all to hell, _he_ would be the one to do it. He wouldn’t let any big-city bitch or any goddamn military protocol do it for him.

He was tempted to knock at Rufus’ door and enter like that, but then he remembered that’s what _she_ had done, so he shivered in disgust and only knocked, even if a little harder than needed.

“Come in,” he heard Rufus’ voice, and he opened the door before the sentence was finished. To his surprise, Rufus wasn’t alone. Bela was there too, sitting on one of the chairs and, bless her soul, looking fucking _miserable_. She looked like she hadn’t had much sleep, and Dean actually _saw_ a brighter future ahead of him. He decided not to smile, but to ignore her hateful looks and focus on Rufus.

“Sam told me you wanted to see me,” he said, his face as blank as he could manage.

“Yeah, although it would have been convenient if you’d shown up earlier,” said Rufus grumpily. “Anyway, I have news for you, concerning your future in the army.”

“As far as I know, I’m about to be sent back to the Impala, sir,” Dean said, his heartbeat rising. He wasn’t so sure about what he thought anymore. “Since I’m not to communicate with Castiel any longer.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” sighed Rufus, and he leaned back on his chair, tangling his fingers together on his stomach. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be moved to the air force anyway.”

Dean’s mouth opened, and he closed it again quickly. He thought about his next question for a moment. “Sorry, what?” _Nailed it._

“Apparently,” Bela interrupted, getting up, “your bloody dragon won’t accept the fact that you’re gone. We told him you gave up on him, and later we even told him that had been a euphemism for you dying, and he just wouldn’t believe us. He demanded to either have _you_ as his aviator or no rider at all. And the worst part is, you’re a captain, so you can’t start from scratch. You’ll be trained with the youngsters, but you’ll still have your rank. So pack your bags, because you’re coming with us.”

Okay, now Dean didn’t care about his mouth gaping. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He hadn’t really realised it yet. “Okay,” he said numbly. “Let me just…” he cleared his throat. “So, a navy captain is translated to what exactly, in the air force?”

Bela’s lips were a thin, white line. “A group captain.”

“And a wing commander is what we in the navy call… commander, right?”

Oh, the sweet hatred in her eyes. “Yes.”

“Is my position change official? Have the papers been signed?”

“By everyone but you,” said Rufus, pointing with his head at a small pile of papers on his office. Dean approached, took a pen, dipped it in the ink carefully and signed, managing to not splotch the paper even once. He put the pen back in its place.

“Okay,” he said and clapped his hands together, rubbing them. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bela answered.

“I need a week.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I am not ready to move. I need a week for preparations. I require a map so that Castiel and I can come on our own.”

“I hope you’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am,” said Dean confidently. “Do not make me order you, _Commander_.”

“Hey, I will not take orders from you!” snapped Bela, pointing a finger at him.

“Wrong,” said Dean. “Now that we’re in the same pit and you’re no more a favourite of the Crown than I am, you bet your ass I’ll order you. Now, I need a map and a freaking week. Both I and my dragon will be at the headquarters on time.”

“Now, listen here –“

“ _Attention_ , Commander.”

Bela opened her mouth and Dean wondered for a moment whether he shouldn’t have gone that far, but she closed it soon enough. She stood on attention with an acid look on her face until Dean nodded, then she turned to Rufus and saluted, her moves wooden, and left, banging the door behind her.

Dean looked at Rufus, who shook his head. “What can I say, son,” he said, “I sure am sad to see you go. You’re a damn good captain.”

“I didn’t want to go at first, Rufus,” admitted Dean, “but have you even seen Cas? He’s a friend, and I can’t let him go alone. I’m lucky enough that he trusts me like this. I promise I’ll serve the country from there too.” He tried not to think his last talk with Castiel.

“Well, we’ll be here for you anyway, should you ever want to come back,” Rufus said. “And you still have a week here, so.”

“Well, yes, I need to let my father know about this whole thing,” sighed Dean, and he shivered even in the thought of it. The Winchester house: now that was a proper nightmare. Rufus didn’t say anything on the matter.

“See you around, kid,” he just said, and Dean saluted, more dedicated than usial, and got out of the office.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Bela still out there.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “Don’t recall having a date with you. I thought I made it clear, I’m not interested.”

“Fuck you, Winchester,” she said. “Captain or no captain, this isn’t over. You’re a disgrace to the Order. You’re not fit for this, and you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Okay,” Dean said casually. “Then tell me this. Why not let Castiel go and not have to deal with me? Why not just get rid of me?”

Bela just pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t know anything,” she hissed. “I can’t let a good, healthy dragon go to waste because I’d rather gag and fuck his rider than work with him,” she said, and hey, at least she was honest, even if she caused Dean to have a completely different kind of desire to gag. “I pray to any possible god and the angels and demons alike to not have a battle before you learn how to work with us, because you’ll have to _lead_ a group of aviators. If you screw it up, then I’ll make sure you die for real, and then we won’t have to lie to your dragon about that to make him work with the rest of us.”

“Get on my good side and we’ll see,” Dean stated. “Work on that. Now, where’s Castiel?”

“In the dome. He refused to leave with Abaddon to hunt, not until you were back. He refused to even meet her. You have damaged him so much that –“

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You know where to find me, so please just go anywhere else,” said Dean casually and turned around to leave. After half a moment, he turned back. She hadn’t moved.

“Hey, let me ask you something,” he started. “Now that you saw Cas, could you do this ignorant bastard a favour and tell me what breed he is?”

To Dean’s surprise, she blushed. Not in a cute, schoolgirl way, oh no; she looked more like a boiling pot ready to burst. “I don’t know,” she spat.

“What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I don’t know his bloody breed!” snapped Bela. “I’ve never seen anything like him. And Garth, the biggest dragon nerd in existence, hasn’t either. Are you satisfied now

“A small, egotistical part of me, yeah, sure,” said Dean with a smile.

Bela rolled her eyes. “Do you know how dangerous it is to ride a dragon you don’t have information about?”

“About as dangerous as riding a damn huge fire-breathing, acid-spitting reptile is anyway, I guess,” shrugged Dean. “See ya.”

And he walked down the corridor, trying not to hop his way outside.

* * *

 

Dean was outside the dome, and he knew he shouldn’t hesitate to go in. But yeah, no matter what Bela had said, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t all just a cruel joke and that Castiel hadn’t left. He called Cas’ name hesitantly, and for a few seconds, he felt his heart sinking, preparing itself for self-destruction after seeing an empty dome. But then, some definitely non-human noise came from inside.

“Dean,” came a voice between the thudding steps. Dean should’ve had more self-control, but damn it, he was so happy when Castiel’s head appeared in the door that he couldn’t stop himself from hugging the dragon’s neck.

“Shit, Cas,” he muttered against the dragon’s scales. “I’m so happy to see you, buddy.”

“I am pleased to see you too, Dean,” Castiel answered solemnly. He pulled back and Dean wasn’t sure if there was sadness or joy in his eyes. “I thought for a while I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Yeah, for a moment, so did I,” said Dean, rubbing his neck. He opened his mouth, but the apology wouldn’t come out. He sighed and smiled awkwardly. “How about we talk while we ride, huh? Have you missed the wind?”

“The wind and more,” said Castiel enigmatically, but Dean didn’t bother to ask for clarification. He got his goggles from the dome, wondering whether he would be allowed to keep them or if he would be given another pair, and whether the aviator uniform was actually better than his own clothes for flying. He put his leg on Castiel’s shoulder and heaved himself up on the dragon’s back, grabbing the straps between his fingers.

“Did you sleep with the harness on last night?” asked Dean, feeling a little bad; Cas hated the feeling of the straps on him when he was resting.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he answered simply, and at least had the courtesy to take off immediately so that Dean’s stomach twisted because of the sudden pressure change and not the guilt.

They rose up above the city, and Dean was still trying to find out what to say. Castiel didn’t look that troubled, but then, Castiel never looked anything. Maybe it was a matter of limited expressions, or better put, a matter of Dean’s lack of understanding of dragon expressions, because he could spot the difference between Cas’ moods, just not as clearly as he could with a human face. But at that moment, Dean really couldn’t tell what was going on in Cas’ mind and that bothered the crap out of him.

“Hey, Cas?” he started. Castiel didn’t answer, but Dean felt the dragon’s muscles tense, and he slowed down, so he could hear Dean more clearly. “Can I, um… can I ask you something? About yesterday?”

Castiel’s voice was almost unrecognisable. “Of course.”

“Are we…” Dean cleared his throat. “Are we good?”

“I didn’t realise our morals were in question,” Castiel answered carefully, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I mean, are _we_ good?” he repeated. “Are _we_ okay?”

Dean could half-see the question marks above Castiel’s head. “What do you mean?”

“Are you angry at me?” Dean asked. “Because man, you have a right to be. Every damn right. So, are you?”

Castiel slowed down a little, and Dean felt a knot inside his stomach. “No,” Castiel said in the end. “I’m not. To be honest, I had expected you to be angry at me.”

Dean blinked. “Really? What for?”

“About the questions I asked, for starters,” said Cas hesitantly, as if he was afraid to raise the topic again. “You got really upset.”

 _Great_. “Sorry about that, Cas,” Dean said. “It was a dick move of me to do. I swear, I couldn’t think anything else last night than the fact that if I never saw you again, the last thing I would have done with you would have been to argue. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, it will,” Castiel stated. “It’s who you are.”

“Gee, thanks, Cas,” snorted Dean.

“You’re welcome,” said Cas and Dean couldn’t keep chuckling. “But I was more worried you’d be angry because of what I did later with the aviators.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“I demanded to have you back,” Castiel admitted, and Dean’s imagination vividly pictured Cas’ face going red. “I couldn’t believe at the time that you’d given up on me, and I insisted, even threatened them. It was selfish of me to do so.”

“Look, Cas –“

“I just wanted to have another chance to meet you and tell you that I don’t want another rider,” Castiel said quickly. “But if you truly want to go back to the Impala, that’s alright. I mean, if you’re back just for me –“

“Cas.”

The dragon stopped talking. He turned his head ever so slightly, just for Dean to be able to see his expression.

“I definitely am here only for you,” Dean said. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t where I want to be.”

Castiel didn’t answer. Dean kept watching him, and he was certain that Castiel didn’t smile, because his expression didn’t change, but he knew that Castiel definitely _did_ smile, and that might have been weird, but knowing it was enough for Dean. He definitely knew much more about Cas than Bela did, trained aviator or not.

Now that he thought about it –

“Turn around,” he said.

Castiel looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Towards the ocean,” said Dean. “We need to go somewhere.”

“You want to go back to the ship?” asked Castiel, confused.

“Forget about the ship,” said Dean dismissively, and he was surprised to realise that he actually meant it. “It’s you and me now. And for the record, before you ask any stupid questions about the ship, you should know that I’d rather have you than an entire fleet.”

Yep. Castiel could definitely smile.

* * *

 

Bobby Singer lived by the sea on a steep cliff that always gave Dean the creeps. He and Sam used to visit Bobby sometimes when they were kids, when their mother was busy having her “girl nights” with her friends or was too sick to spend her energy on her kids, and demanded that John took care of the kids for the evening, and no, he wasn’t allowed to leave them with the governess, so John took them with him to his old drinking buddy’s house. The cliff was too high for Dean’s liking, and even now that he was used to flying on the back of a freaking dragon, memories of his childhood came back to haunt him when he looked down at the sharp rocks and the shattering waves.

Dean had knocked and gotten no answer, so he sat down by the cliff and stared at the house for a while, narrowing his eyes to protect them from the salty wind. It looked as old as it had the last time Dean was here, four or five years ago, and just as neglected, but Dean knew it was sturdy and solid, and more home-like than his own house had ever been. It was a pity he couldn’t show Cas around it, since his ever-growing dragon would have trouble getting through the door.

Didn’t matter, Bobby would be able to see Cas anyway. That was what Dean was there for, really. Well, if he was being honest with himself, he had really missed Bobby, but the truth was that he could use the older man’s knowledge. Bobby might have spent his entire life fixing boats and ships for a living, but he knew lore and dragons better than anyone; it was he, actually, who had given Sam his books and had let him ravage his library, even if he had stood over him and made sure that little Sammy’s collection of pencils was somewhere far from there, preferably in the deepest pit of hell.

Dean lay down and closed his eyes. He could hear Castiel flying, hunting for food while they waited. It had been only a day and Dean had already missed him. He tried to remember how life had been without him, and he honestly couldn’t remember. He realised that Castiel was literally thirty-three _days_ old. It felt so much longer than that.

Dean heard the flutter of large wings and felt the thud as Castiel landed. Dean turned his head lazily and opened his eyes, staring at the dragon. He wondered for a moment how much bigger Cas would get. He decided to worry about that later.

“Catch anything good, Cas?”

“Yes,” Cas answered, with only a hint of pride in his voice. He curled up next to Dean. “Why are we here, again?”

“There’s this old friend of my dad’s, Bobby,” explained Dean, “and he just might know a few things that could help us. He’s a neat guy, you’ll like him.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were in need of help,” said Castiel, sounding surprised. Dean huffed.

“I thought you’d be interested in knowing your breed,” Dean said with a smirk.

Castiel’s eyes shot up and stayed on Dean’s face. “Does he know a lot about dragons?” he asked.

“Sure,” Dean said and pillowed his arms under his head. “If there’s anyone who can tell us, it’s Bobby. He is the master of knowledge, I swear to every God that’s listening.”

Castiel shifted impatiently. “Does he know _everything_ about dragons?” he insisted.

Dean frowned. “I don’t know, Cas,” he said. “I’m sure he knows a lot, but _everything_ is a big word. Why? What do you wanna know?”

“I’m just wondering,” said Castiel. “Do you have that book with you?”

Dean blinked in surprise. “What? No. What book?”

“The one with the stories about dragons and the people who befriended them. I like that one. And I’ve missed reading with you.”

“Did you want me to read to you?”

“Yes.”

Damn, Castiel really _was_ very young. Dean forgot that more than he should.

“Sorry, Cas, I don’t have the book with me,” he said sadly. “Do you want me to try and tell you one of the stories in the book as well as I can remember?”

“I’d like that, yes.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Okay, I’ll try.” He cleared his throat. “Uh… once upon a time, there was this rich country, and there was a pretty princess. The princess had an elven bodyguard who took care of her, and… no, wait, she liked to go to the woods for a walk, because she loved the forest and hoped to meet the elves and the other crazy creatures living there. And, yeah, there it goes, whenever she went into the forest, she took a brave soldier with her to protect her.”

“That wasn’t a princess story,” Castiel interrupted. “Why are you making it about the princess?”

“Shut up, I’m getting to the good part,” said Dean. “Anyway, the princess wanted to see a dragon someday, and I ain’t blamin’ her. So she and her bodyguard searched and searched, until one day, when they were deep in the forest, they were attacked by bloodthirsty murderers!”

“I’m quite sure they were thieves.”

“Do _you_ wanna tell the story?”

“No, but I want to hear the correct one.”

Dean groaned. “So a dragoness came to their rescue, and she became friends with the bodyguard, who left the princess in the castle and then left with the dragoness, and they exchanged a blood vow, and she started turning into an elf from time to time and gave him her strength, and they lived happily ever after. Is that the correct story?”

Castiel slapped Dean lightly with his wing, and Dean laughed. “I like it better when you read it. It makes no sense when you just say it.”

“Oh, come on, Cas, you know the story by heart already,” groaned Dean. “Why do you like it so much? We must have read it a hundred times.”

“I know we have, I just enjoy it,” said Castiel vaguely. “It’s inspiring.”

“Inspiring?” Dean laughed. He leaned back on his arms. “I don’t know, I always thought it was kinda creepy.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Why?” he exclaimed.

“Well, not creepy, per se,” said Dean, “just… unsettling. The blood vow and the whole dude falling in love with the dragon, it’s a weird-ass tale, and I suck at telling it, which makes it even worse.”

“Falling in love?” asked Cas, confused. Dean looked at him.

“Yeah, the bodyguard fell for the dragoness. Didn’t you get that?”

“No,” said Castiel and settled his head on his folded front paws, which Dean could never stop thinking as arms. “I thought they were just… very good friends. It never says they were in love.”

“Well –“ Dean started, but Castiel didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t blood vows happen between friends?” he asked.

Dean frowned. “Yeah, but they used to have them in weddings, too,” he explained. “Basically it was a way of one person having the same blood with the other, making their bond unbreakable, that’s why couples did it too. Friends did it to become brothers, and couples did it to become true family. I’ve read some occasions in which the two actually _drank_ the freaking thing, which I guess is what must have happened between those two in your story, because damn me if I know how a humanoid and a dragon manage to cut a proper wound in their palms and press it together to make the vow valid. Assuming, of course, that the story is real, which it’s not.”

Castiel frowned. “You really think it isn’t?”

Dean blinked and pushed himself up on his elbows. “Well, no,” he answered. “I think it’s just a story, you know, a fairy tale.”

“There are no fairies in it.”

Dean had learnt long ago not to roll his eyes. “Okay, it’s just a dragon tale, then,” he conceded. He stared at Cas for a while. “Why is it so important to you? Why is it inspiring?”

Castiel didn’t answer. Dean was starting to believe he was being ignored, when Castiel looked at him guiltily. “I guess I was hoping for a way for these things to be more than legends,” he said quietly. “It’s a nice kind of magic.”

Dean smirked. “What, you wanna be an elf?” he asked in disbelief.

“No,” answered Cas quickly. He thought about it for a second before he continued. “Not an _elf_ , and not permanently, no. I wouldn’t give up my wings for the world. But I would like to see what it’s like to be human. Maybe read a book on my own. It would be nice.”

Damn him, Cas was a one-ton lizard with fangs the size of Dean’s forearm and claws that could sink a ship in one hit; he wasn’t supposed to be so _adorable_. Dean ignored the wave of fondness inside his chest.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, buddy,” he said sympathetically. “I guess you’re stuck with being a dragon.”

“I’m not _stuck_ being a dragon, I was born like this and it’s really quite satisfying,” snapped Castiel and Dean laughed. “I just thought it would be interesting if I wasn’t for a while. Shape shifting sounds like an interesting ability.”

“Well, welcome to the club,” said Dean and lay back down again. “We’d all like to have superpowers, but we can’t really do anything about it.”

“We can try,” suggested Castiel. Dean looked at him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“We could always _try_ to get… superpowers,” Castiel said impatiently. “Has anyone proved this story is just a tale?”

Dean frowned. Nothing good would come from answering, he knew it, but… “No, nobody has proved it, but we know that’s how it is, because that’s how these things are.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Castiel confidently. “Why can’t we try?”

“And do what? Cut ourselves and swim in our blood or start drinking it?” asked Dean sarcastically. “And all that, for what? Just in the hopes of proving a strange magic actually exists and us gaining some cool abilities from it?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel, followed by an unsaid “you dumbass”, as if Dean had asked if the sun really rose in the east. “Isn’t that enough?”

Dean shook his head, laughing nervously. “Cas, I don’t know,” he said. He was a little annoyed at not finding any arguments, while his entire existence was screaming at him that there should be some for him to use; hell, the entire talk was made of arguments and unstable points of view; how could he not be able to counter the dragon’s way of thought? “What if it only works for elves?”

“The woman in the other story was a human,” Castiel pointed out.

“What other story?”

“The other story. The one with the bohemian woman who saved the dragon’s little brother and he was bound to her, just as the dragoness was bound to the elven warrior. She was human, wasn’t she?”

“She might have been a werewolf, for all we know, Cas.”

“But she wasn’t an elf.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t, not really. “Do you _actually_ want to try?”

Castiel hesitated. “I would like to, yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, not if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t force you into something you’re not comfortable with.”

“Ah, yes, the key to every healthy relationship I never had,” Dean tried to joke, but Castiel didn’t catch it. They looked at each other for a moment.

“Why is this so important to you?” Dean asked in the end. Castiel actually freaking _shrugged_.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been around dragons, I’ve only been around humans, and I’ve seen what human life is like. You can do more things than you know, and you would appreciate it more if you knew what it’s like to not be able to do them. And you always make such a big deal about how great it is to be human, every book points out how incredible humanity is. And I believe it. All dragons are given credit for is their physical strength and powers and things they were born to do, not things they achieved. Being able to do things as a human seems more important than being able to function as a dragon. Plus, I could fit into your bed.”

Dean really didn’t mean to laugh as loudly as he did.

“Stop mocking me,” said Castiel matter-of-factly.  “You asked me and I answered.”

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t put you in my bed, buddy, even if you were human,” laughed Dean, and wiped a tear away.

“See? There’s another thing,” said Castiel.

“What?”

“Tears.”

Dean just stared at him. “Are you jealous of my _tears_?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel. “Why wouldn’t you put me in your bed?”

Dean huffed, and opened his mouth to explain why exactly he wouldn’t put a probably naked one-month-old dragon-dude in his bed, and how crazy this whole thing was, but then he remembered the last thing he promised himself when he thought he’d lost Cas: _never deny him anything, ever again. You saw how it went last time_. Dean sighed. “Okay, tell you what,” he said, getting up on one elbow and turning to face Cas. “You become human for a day, and I’ll tell you everything about how human relationships work.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. “What, do you want to try?”

“No, not really,” admitted Dean, “but I want to do something for you, and if that’s what’s important to you, then yeah, I wanna do it. You guys can’t get sick, right?”

Castiel seemed taken aback. “No, not as far as I know. Why?”

“Cool, so you can’t give me any blood diseases since you can’t catch them in the first place to pass them on, and even if I have something I don’t know about, it won’t affect you,” muttered Dean, trying to remember the info on some sneaky unseen infections the town healer had warned him about when he was a teenager. “How do we do it?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Cas, still looking surprised. “What quantities of blood do we need? It obviously has to be relative to our sizes and volumes, so –“

“Ew, Cas, no,” laughed Dean. “The blood is symbolic, it’s not a magic potion, unless you take it from an angel or something, I don’t know. The people in the story mixed some of their blood, so they were family, so they had to become more like each other. That’s the point.”

“Oh,” said Castiel, and frowned. “Why didn’t the soldier turn into a dragon too, then?”

Dean shrugged. “I think he did get more powerful, but I don’t know why he didn’t start shape-shifting. I guess it’s because dragons are more magical than humans or elves by nature,” he suggested, “or the story was written by a male author who wanted to imagine a naked dragon lady and possibly illustrate his own story.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re a month old. Now come on, before Bobby comes back and freaks out about what we’re about to do. I wouldn’t blame him.”

“What, _now_?”

“Why not?”

Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes for a moment, and if excitement had hands, Dean would have been slapped in the face a couple of times by now.

“Alright,” said Castiel. “Let’s do it.”

“Here, let me,” said Dean and approached the dragon. “We can’t exactly do the palm thing,” he murmured, thinking, “but you can cut your finger instead and I can cup it, and I have never uttered a creepier sentence in my entire life, and this comes from a person who has killed people in battle.”

Dean watched Castiel’s talon slightly cut the forefinger of his right hand and saw a thin stream of blood flow through it. It was darker than Dean had expected; it looked almost black.

Dean took his knife out of his boot – cliché, he knew, but it came in handy – and scratched his right palm with a grimace of discomfort. He hadn’t cut it, he noticed. Self-preservation be damned. He gritted his teeth and pressed the knife more, until he felt his palm throbbing and the warm blood flooding it. He realised he made a terrible mistake in damaging his dominant hand, but well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. 

He looked at Castiel.

“Ready?” he asked.

Castiel nodded.

Dean reached out and, a bit hesitantly, he grabbed Castiel’s finger so their wounds were atop each other. He locked eyes with the dragon. He felt a slight tingling in his hand, and wondered if there was any chance this madness had worked.

After a couple of moments, Dean started feeling really awkward.

“Do you think that’s enough?” he asked. Damn. That wasn’t theatrical at all. There was no dramatic music in the background, or thunder coming from the dark sky and lightning to eerily illuminate their features. That barely even hurt. That wasn’t a blood vow. That wasn’t even a vow. They hadn’t said anything. Then of course, they rarely needed to say anything, they just talked because they liked to. So what kind of shitty blood vow was this? Any proper narrative would be ashamed to even think about it, let alone include it.

Castiel just shrugged. “I believe so,” he said uncertainly. “Do you feel any different?”

“Nope,” Dean said as he removed his sticky palm from Cas’ skin. “But then again, you’re the magical one. Can you turn into a human yet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, try.”

Dean watched as Castiel took a step back, shifted a bit and closed his eyes. He grimaced for a moment and whipped the air with his tail in annoyance.

About five minutes later, he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“Nothing, huh?” Dean asked.

“Unless you’ve noticed something that I haven’t, then no, nothing,” said Castiel, and sat on his backside, his face turned towards the ocean. He didn’t really sit like that often, and Dean noticed he had a bit of trouble setting his back legs in place under him, like a pup, and no, of course he didn’t want to hug the dragon.

“Don’t give up, buddy,” said Dean encouragingly and patted Castiel’s arm. “It might not work with the first try.”

“It might not work at all,” Castiel pointed out quietly. “I don’t think it does.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I think it’s just a legend after all. Or it might only work with elves.”

“I know, Cas. I’m sorry I’m not an elf.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be any different. If you had been an elf, we wouldn’t have met.”

“…Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“It was foolish of me to believe in it, wasn’t it?”

Dean sighed. “No, no it wasn’t,” he said and sat by the dragon. “You’re just a bit of a dreamer, that’s all. That’s not a bad thing. You’re just in danger of getting disappointed more easily than other people.”

“I’m not people,” said Castiel.

“Yeah, you are.”

They didn’t speak for a while. Dean didn’t know why he was disappointed. Well, apart from the fact that his palm was throbbing like a freaking exotic drum in a celebration night. He had never believed in that fairy tale crap in the first place, right?

He sighed. “Cas, look –“

“Dean.”

“No, let me talk,” Dean started again. “I want you to know –“

“No, Dean, wait a moment. I –“

But Dean didn’t find out what Cas was about to say, because a loud bang and an incredibly fast, tiny thing exploding beside him made him jump a few feet in the air. He turned around, his eyes wide, and his field of vision was suddenly blocked by a silver ton of growling dragon.

He peeked behind Castiel’s leg.

It was true, Dean had only seen a gun once before, yesterday night, but that was definitely what that thing in Bobby’s hand was. The man looked pissed, as he more or less always looked; he was wearing a travelling cloak and his eyes were wide as teacup saucers.

“What in the name of crap,” he said, “is Dean freakin’ Winchester doing facing the backside of a _dragon_ on my property?”

Dean just wished he had thought of a few good comebacks beforehand.


	6. Surprise

As much as Dean would have liked a drink, he refused Bobby’s offer. He was sure it wouldn’t do him any good after last night’s hangover and after Bobby had nearly freaking shot him. He did accept a bottle of cold water, though, and another barrel of it to give to Castiel.

Dean hadn’t expected Bobby to act any less surprised than he did when he saw Cas. The three of them spent some time explaining and asking and shouting and looking each other up close, though okay, Dean didn’t take part in the last one, and Castiel barely took part in the first three. Bobby, on the other hand, did a great lot of explaining himself, as for at least ten minutes he was explaining to Dean how he couldn’t possibly be an aviator and how dragons didn’t just turn up on a ship. In the end, he had accepted the facts for what they were and had invited both Dean and Cas to his house, even if Castiel politely refused, saying that he wasn’t any good at cleaning up demolished houses.

Dean put a bandage around his right palm when Bobby couldn’t see him, to avoid any questions, and sat down on an old couch, the one he remembered sailing in when he was a kid, when he was fighting the evil forces only when he wanted to and could stop any time. Soon he was relaxing in the comfort of the piles of books and the smell of alcohol and overly-cooked greasy food. Damn, he had missed Bobby and his house.

Bobby was currently leafing through a huge book and mumbling to himself, as Dean was looking closely at a sword on a shelf next to the couch. He remembered that sword; it was the one neither he nor Sam were allowed to play with as kids. Not because they’d have damaged it, really, but probably more because it would have damaged them. Bobby had said it was made of dragon steel, a metal alloy made of normal steel and dragon’s scales. The weapons made of it were melted in a dragon’s flame, and were considered the best throughout the land. It was said that not even dragons themselves could break them. Dean would pay good money to wield such a weapon just once.

“Ya could’ve come visit me a lil’ earlier,” Bobby hissed, bringing Dean back to reality. Dean smiled.

“Sorry, Bobby, you know how the damn army is like,” said Dean. He knew Bobby wasn’t angry at him. Well, no, scratch that; Bobby was always angry at him and at everything else in general. You just couldn’t take it personally after a certain point in your relationship with him, you just had to get used to it and filter through it.

“Even if I didn’t know, I could imagine,” Bobby said. “Look at ya, you’re lookin’ like you freakin’ grew a pair. And now you’re gettin’ into the worst part of the military, boy, and I’ve no idea what you’re gonna face from now on. The next time I see you, I’ll be surprised if you have all your limbs.”

“Gee, thanks, Bobby,” Dean said, trying not to choke on his own sarcasm.

“Well, pray to the Gods that beast out there will help ya,” said Bobby and closed his book. “Let’s go outside and see what’s up with him.”

Bobby gave Dean a couple of books to hold on to and made a gesture for him to follow outside, where Castiel was waiting anxiously.

Bobby looked at the dragon from tip to toe.

“So?” Castiel asked. “Did you find anything?”

“Lemme look at ya,” said Bobby and settled his hands on his hips. “Let me see you fly around for a bit.”

Castiel took off and circled around the cliff lazily. Bobby’s eyes didn’t leave his motion.

“Interesting,” Bobby murmured.

“What’s interesting?” asked Dean, daring to leave the books in the doorstep.

“Look at him,” Bobby said and pointed at Castiel. “He doesn’t use his tail much. Other breeds just lose it if they don’t propel their way around with their tail, but he just uses his wings and shoulders to balance. And he takes off like a freakin’ bird or somethin’. What did you say his name was? Casteel?”

“Castiel. Cas. Whatever suits you.”

“Alright. Castiel!”

Cas looked at them and stopped mid-air, hovering. Bobby’s jaw literally dropped.

“How in the name of hell are you doing this?” he asked the dragon, approaching him. Castiel looked embarrassed.

“I don’t know, I just move my wings backwards,” he admitted.

“Amazing,” Bobby muttered. “Can you go full speed for me for a moment?”

Castiel nodded and took off again. He circled around the cliff a few more times to speed up and then he disappeared in the distance, leaving only the wind behind him.

“And he’s pretty fast,” observed Bobby and reached for his books, took out a pencil and a piece of paper, and wrote down a few things.

“Pretty fast?” huffed Dean, and smirked. “What would ‘very fast’ be?”

“Son, you’ve never seen a Striker, and I pray ya never have to,” Bobby snorted. “Here he comes.”

Castiel came back as quickly as he had left and landed heavily next to them, his breath fast and uneven. Bobby patted his shoulder.

“You’re just untrained, in a few months you’ll barely realize how fast you’re going,” he said. Castiel looked curiously at the stranger’s arm touching him, but he didn’t say anything. “Can I take a look at ya?” asked Bobby.

Castiel stood still, giving permission. Bobby walked around him, touching him gently here and there, muttering under his breath. Dean followed him.

“What? Tell me what’s up,” Dean said after a couple of minutes of mumbling and scribbling down the paper. Bobby looked up.

“Okay, let me show you both,” he said and moved next to Castiel’s tail. The dragon turned his head to look.

“Your tail’s a weapon,” Bobby explained. “You can balance without it, but you can use it for other things, am I right?” Castiel nodded. “Thought so. Now,” Bobby turned to Dean, “see the proportions of the body? It’s almost human, if you take out the wings and the neck and the tail. If he was shorter, he could have been humanoid. He can stand on two legs, right?”

“No,” said Dean, at the same time Castiel said, “Yes”. Both Dean and Bobby looked at him, and he lowered his eyes.

“I don’t do it often because it looks strange,” he explained. “But I can do it.”

“Right,” said Bobby, and nudged Dean. “Come and look at this.” He pointed at Castiel’s wings. Dean looked them up close.

“What should I be looking at?”

“Over here, ya idjit.”

Dean looked carefully. There was only skin, and scales, and veiny patterns, as he always knew. Only wait, that wasn’t right. In the base of Cas’ wing… no. That was weird. Were those…

“Feathers,” Bobby said. “Your big guy’s an Angel.”

Dean blinked in surprise. He looked at Castiel, who was mirroring his expression. He looked back at Bobby.

“How can that be?” he said. “I thought Angel dragons were bright-coloured and their wings were covered in feathers. Cas is –“

“Cas has a strange case of albinism going on,” said Bobby, “and I believe you’ll see his feathers coming in any time now. He’s too young to have all of it. I’m surprised he can even fly at all, let alone carry you.”

“So what, he’s actually one of the basic categories of dragons?” asked Dean. “Nothing weird about him? Nothing unusual?”

“I told you, he’s an albino,” said Bobby. “As far as I can tell, at least.”

“But he doesn’t have any eye problems, and he has a few colours on him,” Dean countered.

“Albinism doesn’t work the same way for humans and dragons, boy,” said Bobby. “You wanna call him a freakin’ miracle? Wanna say he’s the purest of the Angels because white’s the brightest colour of all? Be my guest. There’s a case his colours might come in afterwards, I’ve never seen anyone this young to be sure. For now I’m just saying what I see, and what I see is a very young, quite unique Angel dragon.”

Huh.

Dean looked at Cas again, whose expression was indecipherable.

“So what can I do?” Castiel asked after a moment. “What does my breed do?”

“Well,” Bobby started, “for starters, I hope they won’t put you in battle. I don’t think you’re fit for that. Your kind is peaceful for a reason. However, if you’re forced to fight, you’ve got a few weapons you can use in your advance, like your tail, which is quite rare for an Angel. Also, I believe you’ll be able to breathe gas later.”

“Gas?” Castiel repeated, not even bothering to hide his disappointment. “What good is that?”

“Don’t dismiss it, kid,” said Bobby. “You can boil or suffocate the other rider and cause severe hallucinations to both him and his dragon. And you’re fast, so if you’re trained, I doubt they’ll be able to hit ya.”

Dean smiled at Cas encouragingly, taken aback at the dragon’s bad mood. He’d expected Cas to be excited to know what he was. Maybe he had expected something more special, Dean thought, but how more special could you get?

“Come on, Cas, you’re awesome,” Dean said, and nudged the dragon’s shoulder. “Why are you bummed?”

“Because if I’m not fit for battle, I might put you in danger,” Castiel answered, a bit more harshly that Dean was used to. “I had hoped to have more useful abilities.”

“Your abilities are great, Cas,” Dean insisted. “Come on, cheer up! Besides, who cares about what other Angel dragons are supposed to be able to do? You’re different already, aren’t you?”

“Why? Because of my colour?”

“No, you dumbass. Because you’ve proved how awesome you are by saving a man’s life when you were two weeks old and by putting a freaking officer in her place and successfully claiming what you knew was yours. That’s why,” Dean said. He saw Castiel trying to hide a smile, and grinned.

“Fucking hell, boy, I take it all back,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “You were meant to ride this dragon. If you’re this bonded to him in the first month, I don’t wanna see how you two are gonna be like in a year from now. I won’t be surprised if you’ve got scales by then.”

Dean only laughed. Castiel raised his head, probably ready to set his disappointment aside.

“Thank you for everything,” he said politely. “We both appreciate your trouble.”

“Hah!” cackled Bobby. “Trouble, was it? I’m just happy I got to see this idjit’s face again, and that I got to meet ya. And you two are a ‘we’ already, huh? Should we be waiting for a happy announcement any time now?”

“What happy announcement?”

“Aaand that’s enough Bobby for one day,” laughed Dean. He patted Castiel twice and the dragon lowered his shoulders so Dean could climb atop of him. Dean turned to Bobby again. “Thanks for everything, Bobby,” he said. “I’ll come back soon.”

“You’d better,” said Bobby, with his arms folded on his chest. “And tell that dumbass of a brother of yours to come and say hi too before I find his crew and tell them he wet his bed until he was thirteen.”

“He didn’t wet his –“

“I know, but the crew doesn’t.”

Dean laughed. “See you around, Bobby.”

He and Castiel took off.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean decided he didn’t want to worry about the future for at least one more day. He had one week until he was supposed to present in the Capital and he was planning to make the most of it. After they left Bobby’s, instead of going back to headquarters or his family’s house, he decided to teach Castiel how to have fun, and led him to the beach. He was surprise to find that not even the salt was hurting the cut in his palm, and Castiel didn’t seem to be bothered either; well, at least it was only Dean’s pride that was hurt from the whole “blood vow” thing, and he would be able to use his hand properly. They spent the day swimming and actually _playing_ like kids, and Dean could swear he hadn’t felt so alive in years. Castiel caught some fish for them to dine on, even though he only barely touched his food – eating once a day was more than enough for him – and the rest of the evening and early night they spent stargazing. Castiel was very proud of his own ability to correctly remember all the constellations Dean had taught him while on the ship, even though he did finally express his bewilderment on why on earth they would call “the Kraken” something that was obviously a cockroach, and why the Queen constellation resembled a snake. Dean laughed too hard at that, and most of the night afterwards was spent with both of them giving unfortunate nicknames to the rest of the constellations. They only got up when they realised the sky was turning pink, and they managed that only to return to the dome like thieves and wash up Castiel from the salt that literally creaked on his scales. The building of the Headquarters had the luxury of having the plumbing) system of the Capital, as well as most noble houses in Elaurans, so Dean used a hose for the first time in his life. Castiel, for some reason, decided it was unfair for him to be the only one to get wet, so he decided to grab the hose in his teeth and soak Dean from head to toe. A rather unfair yet quite amusing fight took place in the dome after that, and it stopped only when the young guard from the other day stepped in and stared at them with an expression as if he’d been slapped in the face with a brick. They didn’t have much choice but to leave after that; besides, it was Castiel’s second sleepless night in a row and it wouldn’t do him or anyone else much good if he collapsed in the middle of the street. So they headed towards the only place that they could consider home.

It wasn’t surprising that the _Impala_ was vacant. The crew all had families in town and they had probably left to stay with them for a few days, now that the ship was secure in the harbour. That didn’t give any answers as to where the hell Sam was, but Dean wasn’t going to trouble himself with that. His brother could be enjoying the Golden Road after all, he was a big boy now and they had spent six months afloat. A hand could only do so much.

Castiel curled up on deck and hid his head under his wing to stop the sun from bothering him, while Dean went unsteadily to his cabin, shut the drapes and covered his eyes with the inside of his elbow, groaning. He felt like he was drunk again. It was just the sleepless night, he told himself, but he had stayed up thousands of times and he had never felt that bad. And he wasn’t even in a bad mood, no; he was just feeling dizzy and disoriented. And judging from Castiel’s looks before they reached the _Impala_ , the dragon wasn’t feeling much better.

Dean just trusted the next few hours of sleep to bring him clarity, and gave in to the attraction of his mattress and pillow.

He woke up about a couple of months later, or so his head was telling him, feeling even worse than before he went to bed. He got up with great effort and looked out through the porthole. It was late afternoon, no later than six o’clock at the most. He rubbed his eyes and tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. He would get food soon. For now, what he needed was to check on Castiel and find out what needed to be done the next few days; suddenly, he was feeling way too nervous about the future.

Okay. For starters, all he needed was to calm down. His things were probably still in his cabin, since he hadn’t tried to move them. (He changed his sweaty clothes from last night into casual, civilian attire and decided to make himself some coffee before going to wake Castiel. He didn’t go to the kitchen often, but he still knew where most things were. He made himself a cup and considered all the things that needed to be done.

First of all, he needed to tell his father that he was leaving the navy and that the _Impala_ was going to Sam, and also hey, Sammy was captain now, probably the youngest ever in the history of Elaurans. At least John might be less angry if good news followed the bad news. Then he needed to talk to Cassie and try to figure out what the actual fuck he was going to do about the whole thing. He hadn’t even run desperately to her house when he came back from his journey, for crying out loud. What sort of future fiancé did that make him? And as the icing on the cake, there was the problem of having a new harness made for Castiel because the one he was using now was already small for him and he would end up suffering soon enough. Damn, Dean had forgotten to ask Bobby about how big Castiel was gonna get. He could, of course, check it in his books, since Cas apparently was just a regular dragon and nothing as special as they had thought at first, but for some reason Dean didn’t think he’d find an answer there.

Dean yawned. It was too early to think about these things, and why on earth was he doing that to himself? He grabbed his cup of coffee and quickly put it back, hissing. He looked at his palm. The wound had closed and completely healed since yesterday. Dean examined it up close, almost scared to look at his own hand. Yes, he wasn’t mistaken, the wound was not invisible; it was just that, in the place of a large scab or a half-open cut, there was a shiny white line that stung like hell when anything touched it. That made no sense. Yesterday morning his hand didn’t hurt at all. What had changed?

Dean took a few deep breaths. Okay, that wasn’t possible. Maybe the dragon blood had healing properties, so when he touched Castiel’s wound with his own, this had happened. Of course, there was no record that Dean remembered of a dragon’s blood being used as a remedy, but what other explanation was there?

No, Cas’ crazy fairy tale plan couldn’t have worked.

Could it?

No.

Huh. No.

Okay the “calming down” plan wasn’t working anymore, if it ever had. Dean needed to see how Cas was doing. He ran out of his cabin.

“Cas?” he called, and looked around the deck. Cas wasn’t there. Hunting, probably, that was it. Or fishing. Or at Bobby’s, he had liked Bobby.

Yeah, but Cas had never before left on his own. What was wrong?

“Cas!” yelled Dean, at the brink of panic.

“Dean?”

Oh, thank Heavens. Dean closed his eyes and finally exhaled. “Freaking Hell, Cas, don’t scare me like that,” he said, and turned around. He frowned. No sign of Cas. He looked up. Was Cas still airborne? No. Dean looked around him. “Cas, where are you?”

“Over here. Look.”

Dean’s eye caught a movement by the mast. He frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. And then he saw the kid.

He thought about yelling angrily, “Who the hell are you and why are you on my ship?”, or asking, “Hello, are you the new sailor nobody told me was coming?”, but he couldn’t really utter a vowel that made sense, let alone a sentence.

The kid was standing behind the mast, still and immovable, his eyes intensely locked on Dean. He didn’t look more than fifteen, maybe sixteen years old at the most. His hair was brown and messy, barely touching his shoulders, and his expression was something between pure terror and childish excitement, although he wasn’t smiling. Also he was stark naked, but Dean didn’t really want to go there. He raised his hand with the palm outwards, hiding any not-so-private-anymore parts.

“Dean,” said the kid, and holy freaking hell, that wasn’t possible.

“Cas?” croaked Dean. “What the fuck?”

Cas – because yes, that was definitely Cas – took a couple of unsure steps towards Dean, and Dean just knew it was him, he just knew; nobody else moved that way. And if Dean couldn’t tell what way that was because he was used to looking at a twenty-foot-long dragon and not a barely five foot seven scrawny teenage boy, it didn’t fucking matter, because _that was definitely Cas_.

“It worked,” Cas said simply, and he still wasn’t freaking smiling, only he was, and Dean could get that when it was happening on a dragon’s face, but how the hell was it happening on a human face?

“I can see that,” Dean answered, his voice still hoarse. He looked into Cas’ eyes and yes, the pupils were still slit. And now that he took a closer look, he could swear there were still some random scales on Cas’ skin, glowing under the afternoon sun. “How on earth –“

“I tried,” said Cas, and Dean could hear the excitement in his voice.

“You tried,” he repeated. “That’s it. You _tried_ to become human, and you’re human.”

“Yes.”

Oh Gods, that wasn’t right. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cas,” he started slowly, “tell me exactly what happened from the moment we went to sleep until the moment I came out on deck and called you, alright?”

“Well, first of all, after we –“

“And please,” Dean interrupted, and took off his tunic, giving it to Cas, “put this on, okay? Around your waist would be preferable.”

Cas took the shirt carefully, testing how to catch it with his long, slender fingers, and looked at Dean questioningly. “Why? I’m not cold.”

“Because,” Dean laughed awkwardly, “I can see your ding-dong, okay?” Cas tilted his head, and looked at his naked body, then up again at Dean, his face puzzled. Dean sighed. “Just put it on and tell me what happened.”

Cas obeyed. Like Dean had predicted, the shirt was exactly long enough to hide Cas’ slim body down to the middle of his thighs. Cas looked at it as if he was freaking _mesmerized_ by it for a couple of moments, and then he looked at Dean again.

“So, after we returned to the ship,” he continued as if he had never stopped, “I went to sleep, but woke up a couple of hours later, because the cut from before was bothering me. I figured that it might mean something, so I tried to concentrate and see if any part of the legend was true. And apparently, it is. That’s all.”

Damn him, Cas made it sound so simple. Let alone the fact that a ton of dragon had shrunk into a skinny teenager who looked more like a marooned castaway than any variation of even the most miserable sub-category of dragon Dean had ever come across in his short career as a dragon enthusiast. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to convince himself that wasn’t happening, and that it was all probably just a stupid dream, nothing more.

When he opened them, the very human teenager version of Cas was still there, staring at him from a distance that was a few inches too short.

“Give me a minute, Cas, okay?” he said, and got up, feeling rather dizzy.

“You’re upset,” he heard Cas’ voice, and dammit, he sounded so disappointed Dean would have hugged his leg any other time. Only that wasn’t an option now.

“Damn, Cas, no, I’m not upset,” he said desperately, “I’m just surprised, you know? Can you go back to being you?”

Oh, not the puppy eyes. Sam doing it was bad enough; Dean was supposed to have gotten away from that when he took the position in the aviators. “Do you want me to change back right now?” Cas asked.

“Yes, if you please,” Dean said. “Or not. I don’t know. Not _now_ , I guess. But _can_ you turn back? Like, whenever you want to. Do you still have the ability to go dragon-mode?”

Cas frowned. “Of course,” he stated. “I am a dragon, after all.”

“Well, you don’t look like it.”

“Does my form offend you?”

“What? No,” Dean said quickly. “No, Cas, of course not. It’s just… strange, that’s all.”

“I thought we agreed we would try this,” Cas pointed out sadly. “If I knew you would disapprove of it so much, I would never have tried it.”

“No, Cas, don’t say that,” Dean said, and looked at Cas, who sat down with his legs folded in front of his chest, his arms hugging them protectively. Dean sat opposite of him and looked him in the eye. “I’m proud of you for managing this, okay? It’s pretty awesome, I have to admit. But it just raises a thousand questions. Did the blood vow really work or is it something else?”

Castiel frowned. “What else could it be?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, Cas. Something else. As far as I know, I can’t turn into a dragon.”

“The warrior in the story couldn’t, either.”

“Well then, I don’t think I can breathe fire either,” said Dean. “Or gas, or whatever it is you’re breathin’. All I wanna know is why this happened and how –“

“Dean.” Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean stared at it. It was just a normal hand, and yet it felt horribly alien. Dean looked at Cas.

“Does it really matter how it happened?” asked Cas. “It just did. I thought it would make you happy, because now it’s easier for me to walk around unnoticed if I want to. But if it makes you uncomfortable, it won’t happen again.”

Dean wanted to slap himself in the face. _Don’t deny him anything, you asshole. Look at what he managed to do. Why are you making this about yourself? Why are you so freaked out that the legend is true? You’re a dragon rider, for crying out loud. Shouldn’t you trust the impossible a little bit more?_

Dean sighed. “No, Cas, it’s okay,” he muttered. “I’m just… worried. You’re pretty rare the way you are, and I’ve already drawn too much attention to myself by being exactly the opposite of what you’d expect from a new aviator. We don’t wanna make targets out of ourselves, okay?”

Cas frowned. “Well, that sounds like an excuse.”

“It’s not,” Dean countered. “Cas, this is way too weird. Legends aside, have you ever heard of any dragon managing what you did just now? Well, I haven’t, and I’ve been around much longer than you have, so –“

“That’s not true,” Cas interrupted. “I was aware of my surroundings before I hatched, and I spent about fifty years inside the shell. I’m not an infant.”

Dean blinked. He cleared his throat, determined to not let anything stop his speech. “Okay then,” he agreed, “you’re adding to my point. You haven’t heard of this happening before. I freaked out because I didn’t expect it to actually happen, even if we said we’d try it. It’s practically impossible. Imagine how many people would use this knowledge against us, or try to take advantage of it.”

Even as he spoke, Dean felt his mind filling with possible ways for Cas’ new ability to be proven dangerous, and he realised he wasn’t selfish to freak out, not really. He knew strategy, and if half of the things he’d heard in his time were true, this damn order was way worse than the navy. If they ever got their hands on a dragon that could turn human, they’d squeeze that ability out of him until every other dragon had learnt it or at least tried to, and they’d send the dragons incognito inside the enemy lines, just to have the advantage. And Dean wasn’t willing to let Cas go through that. He wasn’t a tool, he was his friend, and Dean would protect him, even if it meant only the two of them were aware of his awesomeness.

Because yeah, who was Dean kidding, Castiel’s awesomeness wasn’t debatable. And at this point, Dean didn’t want to take his achievement away from him.

He sighed. “Okay,” he said in the end. “Just promise me it will stay between us. When we’re sure it’s just the two of us, you’re allowed to do whatever you want, take whatever form you like, be what you wanna be. But we’ll be the only ones to know. I wanna keep you safe.”

Cas stared at him for a moment, and then nodded, averting his eyes. Damn doing the right thing. It always left a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth. He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, trying to find something to say. He absentmindedly realised that it was getting dark. He sighed.

“Look, Cas, I’m gonna need to go see my family,” he said reluctantly. “I have to tell them what’s happened. Do you wanna come with? Or do you wanna stay here and read a book or something? You can do that now.”

Cas thought about it for a second. “Can’t I come with you and read a book there? I’ll stay hidden,” he promised eagerly.

“What, come in the house?” asked Dean.

“That would be nice, since I’ve never been inside one, but no,” explained Cas, “I’ll stay outside, and I’ll keep an eye on you, but I’ll just read a book while being hidden somewhere. I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Cas, I know you won’t cause trouble. That’s not why I insist on you not making your ability known, it’s because –“

“Yes, I know you want me to be safe,” Cas interrupted, “and I will be. Nobody will know it’s me. Could _you_ tell it’s me?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t count, you’re my aviator,” Cas said stubbornly. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Cas, you do realise that no matter how awesome your human self is, you still have dragon eyes and scales, right?”

“That’s because it’s my first time, I’ll work on it,” Cas insisted.

“Can you perfect it before we get to my parents’ house?” Dean asked, but he couldn’t hold back his affectionate smirk.

“No, but my eyes will be on my book, and I won’t show any scaled skin. That’s a good use for clothes, isn’t it?”

Dean laughed. He sighed, still smiling, and passed his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. “Okay,” he said in the end. “You won, you big creep. You’re coming with me. But be careful, alright? I really don’t want anything happening to you.”

“Same goes for you,” said Cas, “that’s why I’m coming.”

Dean just laughed and shook his head. He didn’t know Cas’ parents and probably never would, but he was at least proud his dragon had gotten something from his Winchester side of the family.


	7. Family

Now, when Dean said he hated his family’s house, you can’t even begin to understand _how much he fucking hated his family’s house_.

It wasn’t in the “nice” part of Elaurans, because Dean and Sam’s mom, Mary, had hated the pretentious neighbours and the fact that she was always referred to as “Lord Campbell’s daughter”. John was kind of a loner anyway, and they had agreed to move in a mansion just outside the city, where a carriage would reach in no less than half an hour, starting from the army’s headquarters and assuming the streets were empty. Dean hadn’t minded much when he was a kid. He got to live in the countryside, or sort of, anyway, and he’d rather have trees to climb and slopes to destroy self-made sleighs on and long branches to creak in the wind and make the perfect atmosphere to tell scary stories to Sammy. Their tutors came to their home, just because their parents could afford it, and he and Sam were so close that they had never asked for other kids to play with. Well, they might have been a little dangerously close. Dean couldn’t help it. He remembered that he had been happy for having a little brother anyway, but he also remembered saving said little brother from the fire when he was four years old. Carrying a baby out of a burning house while being scared to death that both your parents are going to die and that little crying lump in your hands will be the only family you have kinda does it for you.

Fortunately, John had managed to save Mary from the fire that night, but it had a cost on both Mary, who developed a serious problem in her respiratory system because of the smoke, and everyone else. The house was rebuilt and life should have continued as usual, if a bit more thankfully than before, only it didn’t. John grew paranoid that his family was in danger the entire time, thinking that the fire was not an accident at all, but an act of violence from Elavorni spies. He got obsessed with the war and his position in the army, and it wasn’t long until he took Dean with him on the ship to teach him the job. Mary, coming from a family that had managed to reach the top because of their military ties, had objected to it, but John hadn’t listened. Dean had wanted to make his father proud for years, and it was until recently that he insisted on that. When Dean made Captain three years ago, John retired and went back to living with Mary quietly, supposedly to take care of her, even though she was getting better day by day and had never had trouble of taking care of herself, and that was when Dean had snapped. He hadn’t said anything because he’d never say anything bad-mannered to John, but he couldn’t fathom why on earth John would recruit his sons into the most dangerous profession of all time and then go back to his apple pie life. Was he feeling safer now that his sons could die any day defending their country? Was he proud? If he was, he had never said so. It was like he had bred Dean and Sam to take his place; as if he was happy now that Mary was safe, and he didn’t care at what cost that would be achieved.

Sam had tried to leave the military and go study in the Northern University when he was eighteen, but unfortunately, one of his teachers was an old friend of John’s and had sent him back not a month afterwards. Sam hadn’t talked to John for years and had avoided him at any cost. It had been only two years since they started talking again, formally and usually making the people around them feeling like the temperature had dropped a few dozen degrees, and it was only because Mary had gotten sick again and they had had to put up the white flags for her sake. Mary got better soon, and they continued their forced peace, but Dean was always relieved when he wasn’t around for his brother and father’s meetings.

The point was that Dean had spent his entire life trying to make his father appreciate him. He had saved his brother from a fire when he was only four, he had made him toys when John was too busy to take care of him in order to follow a politely annoyed Mary around the house and offer her a helping hand, Dean had been the one to take care of Sammy’s studying and his extra education – well, even if that meant that he took him to Bobby’s and let him read while he was making Bobby teach him how to make gadgets that felt too strange and weirdly exciting. And the thing was that Dean would have never appreciated what he’d done for Sammy if Sam himself hadn’t made him listen to it angrily one day after he’d come back from a terrible meeting with their Dad and Dean had  scolded him. Dean only got a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder when said shoulder had a golden epaulette on it, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what his father was patting at the time.

So yeah, he had taken the easy way out and spent years in the sea. Sue him. He missed his mother and he missed Cassie – who, by the way, he had met on his leave two years ago and his father hadn’t commented on it at all – but he purposely spent all his time aboard the Impala. She had become his home, and if he felt a bit guilty for it, who cared? At least he didn’t have to face his father and accept the fact that he had nothing in common with him except a name, and that he didn’t really thank him for anything. Because the man had done all these things for him, and Dean still didn’t feel he had the right to not want him in his life.

So it wasn’t anything strange that Dean’s fingers felt wooden as he dressed more formally than usual to leave for his parents’ house, and that he thought he looked awful no matter what he put on.

Any other time, the easy way would have been his uniform, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to wear it now, and his new one was somewhere in the Capital, waiting for him. He didn’t have many good clothes, at least not on the ship, and the ones he did have made him feel completely out of place. In the end, he settled for black pants and boots, a simple white shirt and a green coat with brass buttons which he hated because the weather was so freaking warm and he shouldn’t have to suffer just to look nice. Then he remembered what Cassie had told him corsets were like and he told his brain to shut up.

Of course, the hard part hadn’t even started. There was the simple problem of making Castiel look human. Yes, his shape was human alright, but anyone who had ever seen a dragon would realise that his movements weren’t human at all, Dean was sure of that. Then of course, he doubted he would meet any other aviators tonight, but he had no idea whether his parents had ever met a dragon before, and couldn’t risk it. Thankfully, Cas learnt to balance without his wings and tail really fast, even though he still looked surprised any time something touched his back and he wasn’t able to smack it away without using any limbs numbered one to four. His tiny remaining scales and colour patterns were hidden under Dean’s old sailing uniform, which he had kept for reasons he couldn’t remember, but now thanked any deity who had ever enlightened his brain to do so. Dean was a bit reluctant about giving Cas something blue to wear because all the attention went straight to his eyes, which were freaking creepy when put on a person. At least they soon found that, when Cas concentrated hard enough and kept his eyes in the shade, his pupils turned, well, not round, just round _er_. His hair was combed now and neatly pulled back in a small ponytail on the nape of his neck. He did look a bit uncomfortable with all the fabric touching his skin, and they had to settle for the lightest shoes they could find from Dean’s old belongings because he just couldn’t handle boots, but the blue shirt and brown pants suited him well, and he could probably pass for a normal humanoid if he kept a low profile. Besides, he was so excited to hold a book in his hands that Dean was pretty sure Cas would forget about the existence of anything else in the world and wouldn’t have to make contact with people. It should be easy to get him in the house or let him wait outside until Dean was done talking to his parents.

Dean led Castiel out of the ship and into the port. It was amazing how much wonder was in Cas’ eyes. Of course, he was suddenly looking at the world from a completely different perspective – literally.

“Everything looks so big from down here,” he commented as he looked at the buildings around the harbour. Dean could only smile. He decided not to take a carriage, but to instead  walk through the city, to let Cas see it.

They took the Fisherman’s Lane to get out of the harbour and passed all the small shops with the loud shopkeepers and the smell of fish so heavy in the air that you felt you could cut it with a knife. Cas looked really surprised to see such an amount of fish all together, and he refused a treat when Dean offered to buy him one, saying he preferred to catch his own meals, and he looked offended at the idea of eating something that had died before entering his mouth. Dean tried not to think about that.

Dean led Cas through the narrow streets with the brightly coloured cobblestones and with the clothes hung over their heads between the houses, dripping on them and waiting to dry. The nameless, homely streets smelt of freshly baked bread and homemade food and flowers, and there were several faces in the windows, some of them staring to memorise features and take in details to help in the gossip, others just glancing and looking away way too innocently. Dean wondered for a second what he and Cas looked like; he hoped he looked like Cas’ brother and not like his dad.

The alleys led them to Crescent Square, as Dean was planning. The circus was still there, just like Dean had seen it from Castiel’s back when they were flying above the city; they were performing their final acts under the first light of the moon and the yellow streetlamps and the red lanterns, filling the square with the sounds of fast drums and flutes. People were watching, some with interest, others absently, spread around the plane trees and sitting on the fountain in the middle of the square, probably enjoying the droplets of water cooling them on such a warm evening. Dean looked at Cas and pulled him a little closer to the shade of a tent tied on a plane tree, because his eyes were wide open and full of wonder, and he had forgotten to blink for a long time now. There were four exotic dancers, two men and two women, whose clothes were so few and so small that it was only technicalities that stopped them from being considered naked; they were dark-skinned and patterns were drawn on their bodies and faces, and they danced while holding long curved swords, which they threw to each other and put against vital organs, seemingly without harm. A skinny pale man with a heavy purple cloak appeared after them, his hands dancing in front of him and producing sparks and colourful lights which he shot up in the form of a firework.

Dean pulled Cas’ sleeve to catch his attention. Cas looked at him, still mesmerised at the show.

“What?” he asked.

“We need to keep going, Cas,” Dean said sadly. “I need to go talk to my parents.”

Damn, that was bad. Cas looked so sad that Dean wanted to buy him freaking candy. “Do we have to go?” Cas asked.

Dean opened his mouth to say yes, of course they needed to go, but then he thought about it and closed his mouth again. Why _did_ he have to go to his parents’ house _tonight_? He hadn’t told them he was coming, anyway. And he _was_ having a good time. And he had five more days to leave for the Capital; he wasn’t running out of time or anything. Plus, Cas really wanted to stay, and it wasn’t like he would have much chance to go out and see the circus when they’d be in the army, and he was having fun as a human and wouldn’t be allowed to do much of that either. _Don’t say no to him, look how happy he is._

Dean sighed. “We’re still going to my parents’ tomorrow,” he said and Cas’ face brightened. “But for now we’re staying to take a look at the place. You win.” Strangely enough, Dean didn’t feel like he was the one who had lost.

They stayed at the circus for a bit longer. The magician finished his act with a short, half-naked and not at all bad-looking man appearing out of a hat to excited applause. The man offered his hands and legs to the woman announcing the performances; she tied him up with big chains, lifted him up in a surprising display of strength, and threw him in the fountain. Several people gasped, including Cas, as Dean noticed. There were some splashing sounds and clanging of metal on marble, and not a minute later, the chains were thrown out of the water and the man was standing up out of the fountain, panting but grinning widely.

There was some music after that, a couple of musicians accompanying the story of a lean, red-headed bard with a tribal tattoo on his face. The occasional sound of coins falling to the ground as a reward for the wanderers added to the music, and Dean would have helped with that, only Cas wanted to hear the story to the end. He sat down, his legs folded, and Dean had no choice but to join him. The story wasn’t anything special for Dean, it started as just another warrior-saves-princess-from-evil-wraiths kind of thing, even though that one had an unexpected plot twist where the princess turned out to be the mother of dark spirits and devoured the warrior, making him one of her eternal servants. By the time the bard was finishing his story, several children were crying, and Dean thought that he would have been crying too if his age still had only one digit; it wasn’t so much the story as the bard’s calm expression, as if he was sent by the damn evil enchantress in the story. But most adults seemed amused, and Cas did too, and that’s what mattered to Dean.

The show was over soon after that, and several coins fell on the ground around the bowing performers. Dean felt a tug in his sleeve as he got up.

“Dean, are those gold buttons money?” Cas asked curiously as he got up as well. Dean laughed. Yeah, of course, Cas had never seen any currency in his life.

“Yeah, Cas, that’s money,” he said. “The performers did a good job, so we pay them for their services.” He remembered how childish Cas felt today, and asked, “Do you want to go give them money?”

Cas’ face brightened.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he said and opened his palm as Dean gave him the money.

Dean watched as Cas ran to the performers, beaming, and practically threw the coins on the ground, making the bard jump and clutch his chest. Dean hid his face in his hands and laughed silently, feeling his cheeks warm up with second-hand embarrassment. He heard Cas return and he could swear he could feel the disguised dragon’s wide grin in the air.

“Come on, big guy,” said Dean and put his arm around Cas’ shoulders and giving him a brotherly squeeze, “let’s go eat something. Night’s young.”

They left the square with the rest of the audience, Cas asking something about how on earth Night’s age was calculated.

 

* * *

 

The Impala creaked under the sound of tired feet at about two in the morning, when Cas said he didn’t think he could keep his disguise much longer. They went back to the ship with their bellies full of greasy ribs and crunchy bread and their cheeks hurting from all the laughing they had when a drunken girl in the inn decided to burp the alphabet and dance on a table wearing the remaining ribs as a crown. Dean had gotten some pie for dessert and insisted Cas tried some in the way back, before he was back to his original size and unable to do anything more than pick his teeth with his share. He seemed to enjoy it, even though Dean suspected much of it was for his own sake.

As soon as they stepped foot on the ship, Cas ran towards his spot near the mast while taking his clothes off at the same time. Dean tried not to look, at first because it was just obvious he wasn’t going to peek at a little teen dude getting naked, then because the cracking of bones and occasional grunts and something that sounded suspiciously like skin stretching didn’t really encourage him to look – plus, he was too busy maintaining his balance on a ship suddenly dealing with the added the weight of a growing dragon on it. Dean wondered how the fuck could almost a ton of dragon fit into a small human frame like that and then back. He just picked up Cas’ clothes (trying not to focus on the fact that he found no underwear and the memory of not having given him any) and folded them neatly to have them ready for the next time Cas needed them. He only looked up when he heard a relieved sigh and felt the ship’s balance settle. Cas was back to being his usual dragon self, and he had curled up already in his spot, his face the definition of bliss, his eyes half-closed.

Dean grinned and sat next to Cas. “How’re you feelin’, buddy?”

“Great,” Cas answered, and it was a bit sad that he wasn’t showing his smile anymore, but hey, Dean was used to that, right? “I had a wonderful time, Dean. Thanks for giving me the chance.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” said Dean just a tiny bit awkwardly and gave the dragon a soft, friendly punch. “I had a good time too.”

“I was a little scared that you wouldn’t approve of my shifting,” Cas admitted, “but I’m happy to see it wasn’t an issue.”

“I said don’t mention it,” said Dean. “You proved me wrong, and I’m happy for that. Since you can pass as a human, you can do that sometimes in cities, okay? Just… well, not around the experts.” He realised he was about to ruin the mood and tried to shake it off. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he said. “All that matters is that we had an awesome time, and that we can rest until tomorrow, and wake up whatever time we want to. Ain’t life great?”

“I don’t have much experience from it, but I guess that’s true,” said Cas, closing his eyes and settling his head on his folded arms under it. Dean smiled and got up quietly, heading back to his cabin.

He left Cas’ clothes on his chair, and realised he really thought of them as Cas’ clothes now. He took off his boots and pants and changed his shirt for a light tunic he wore when sleeping. The night was warm, so he decided to not wear any pants at all. He took a blanket just in case and quickly went to his hammock at Cas’ side, between the mast and the steering cabin. He lay down, his left leg dangling from the side and his right one slightly rocking the hammock, his arms under his head like a pillow. He looked at the stars absently and heard Cas’ light snoring. He huffed, smiling. He didn’t remember Cas having so much action in one day.

He sighed, trying not to think about the kind of action Cas would be expected to have from the next week on. He couldn’t imagine him fighting and slashing his enemies with his talons. Hell, he couldn’t even imagine him having enemies in the first place. He wondered whether Cas would keep that innocence of his or lose it during the war. He promised himself he would take him out sometimes to have fun the way they did today.

Come to think about it, Dean realised he had actually _had fun_ today. Huh. It had certainly been a while. Of course, it had been a long time since he didn’t have to care for the ship and the sailors and Sam and his father’s opinions and the military laws and the next enemy that was going to appear behind any corner. He would soon have to care for most of those things again, but he had a few more days until it came to that, and he wanted to spend them like that, like he did a few hours ago, with Cas, and experiencing the world together with someone who hadn’t seen anything before.

Dean glanced at the sleeping dragon. He really was a wonder, wasn’t he? He was thirty-freaking-five days old and look at him, taller than Dean and almost as long as the width of the Impala and turning into a human just for kicks. Dean couldn’t help wondering how big Cas would get, even though he had a feeling like he had stopped growing as fast as before. Of course, he had no idea how fast dragons reached maturity, but if he could judge from Cas’ human appearance, a month was like the equivalent of a human’s childhood and adolescence in a dragon’s lifespan, which was weird, because dragons lived much longer than humans. It was kind of sad, to have such a short childhood, but Dean thought it was kind of saving time, too. Of course, if what Cas had said was true and dragons did indeed spend so much time in the shell, aware of their surroundings, learning, growing mentally and emotionally but never physically, then that sounded a bit like torture, and it was better that they didn’t have to endure a long childhood as well.

Anyway, nothing changed the fact that Cas was acting childish, and he seemed to enjoy his life as it was, and Dean freaking loved that.

He sighed again. The truth was that he had missed that. He’d missed having someone to show around and show off his awesomeness to. He’d missed experiencing the hundreds of “firsts” of manhood with someone who was due to have them. He’d missed being the big brother.

Sure, Sam was his favourite person on this fucking earth, and their relationship was great. He could depend on his brother and he could trust him with anything and have fun with him. But ever since Sam grew up, he had developed his own goals and his own dreams, which was only natural, and Dean was feeling like a total jerk for being jealous of anything Sam chose over him, but he was. With their mother weakened by her sickness and their father living in his own little universe, Dean was the one to take the most care of Sam when they were younger, and he was used to being there for someone; he liked being needed.

Cas was giving him that.

Castiel was smart, and he was awesome, and he was a freaking legendary beast, but he did need him. He was willing to let Dean show him the world and read to him, and Dean knew that if he was the one to turn into a dragon and enter Cas’ world, Cas would be there to guide him and teach him everything. Dean knew he could depend on Cas for everything, and that made the changes in his life worth it a thousand times over.

Dean fell asleep with a smile on his face, something that tended to happen more and more often the past few weeks.

 

* * *

 

The morning – well, more like noon, actually – found Dean in a good mood, despite his plans for the day. He took his time stretching and washing his face and checking on Sam’s cabin, making sure that Sam wasn’t there, and making his own coffee for the first time in a while. He didn’t have to wake up Cas. The dragon opened his eyes lazily and yawned before Dean even thought about talking to him. He still looked satisfied from last night.

They didn’t talk much. Cas waited for Dean to finish his coffee and they took off together afterwards, looking for some food for Cas, who might have appreciated the human cuisine more than he expected, but he definitely preferred the options of the ocean. They wandered for a while, as Cas’ wings had spent too much time hidden inside his bones last night that he really needed to stretch them. Dean was still surprised at the fact that he didn’t mind spending time on the back of a flying reptile.

They spent some time testing whether Cas had developed any gas-breathing abilities, with no success whatsoever. Cas insisted that Dean should try to see whether he had gotten any dragon powers as well, but that failed as well. Cas insisted it was because Dean had no idea what to try, and Dean didn’t want to tell him that he didn’t think the whole trick worked on humans.

They didn’t go back to the ship until a few hours later, when Dean’s legs and hips were more sore than if he’d tried to pull off an entire ballet on his own, and his stomach was rumbling loudly enough for Cas to hear – so it was already late afternoon when they landed. Dean picked up some food left in the kitchen, made a pile of it and sat next to Cas, already eating.

“So what are you going to do today?” he asked between two bites of bread.

Cas frowned. “Don’t we have to go see your family today?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean bit into a hard, cold, and rather suspicious steak, “I d’now, ‘aybe yu’d like t’ g’ out ‘n’ see th’ rest o’ th’ city ‘nstead.”

Cas shook his head gently. “No, I’d like to come with you, if it’s okay. I’d like to meet your family.”

Dean swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Well, mazel tov. You must be the only one. Are you gonna come like that or do you wanna see the inside of the house?”

Cas’ look gave Dean all the info he needed.

“Okay,” Dean said, “as soon as I’m done eating, I’ll get you your clothes and your book and we can go.”

 

* * *

 

Dean would have really liked to have another walk through the city with Cas, but he was very much aware that he needed to force himself less and less to not say no to his friend, and there was no chance that Cas wouldn’t find something interesting for them to do if they decided to take a stroll. Plus Cas’ few hours as a human last night had made him miss his wings too much, and he did offer to fly Dean to his parents’ house, so after Dean got ready, dressed in the most formal, least military clothes he had kept on the ship, they took off.

As they flew over Elaurans, Dean could feel his heart racing against his ribs. It was nothing, he told himself, he was just still kind of afraid of heights. The part of him that wasn’t “afraid of heights” rolled its eyes, and Dean would have punched it if it wasn’t imaginary and a reason for him to worry about his sanity. He hadn’t seen his parents in six months, and the only thing that would make his stay better was that Sam was probably there, since he stayed at home very often when they were ashore, unless of course he had taken off to be somewhere more pleasant; Dean wouldn’t blame him if he had left already, but he truly hoped he’d be there for the big news. Unless, of course, Sam had already told them everything, which was something that Dean hadn’t thought about until now, and which made his fear of heights settle in his stomach and make him want to puke. Maybe he should have gone back home earlier.

The feeling of guilt and insecurity stayed with him as they landed a few hundred yards from the Winchester mansion, in the middle of a grove. Dean took off his goggles, debated with himself for a while whether to leave them there or take them with him at home, and in the end decided to tie them on his belt, hanging there until he needed them again. Meanwhile, Cas had taken a few steps away from Dean, shrunk into his human form, and gotten dressed. He showed up smiling, holding his book under his arm and looking a bit sloppy, as his clothes hadn’t fallen off him during the flight but hadn’t been saved from wrinkling, either. Dean grinned and led the way towards the mansion, glancing at Cas every now and then to make sure he was okay. Yes, Cas was the one Dean had to make sure was doing okay. It was his first time meeting people as a human, like, actually meeting people, not just blending with the crowd, and he looked… well, he looked like he was doing fine, but maybe he wasn’t, because so many people hid their actual feelings to keep the people around them from getting worried and, and…

Dean had forgotten who he was talking about.

Okay, both he and Cas would make it. Dean had spent a few blissed months away from this specific kind of stress, yes, but he would remember how to handle it in no time. And they were both a bit untidy, maybe, Dean with his goggles hanging from his belt and Cas with his slightly off-size, wrinkled, borrowed clothes, but it’s not like they would be seen by anyone except Dean’s family, right?

Right.

 

* * *

 

Dean led Cas towards the big brass gate in the walls around the mansion that opened to the garden, and stopped a couple of dozen yards from it, looking at what was happening inside.

It was eight o’clock in the evening, and the sun was beginning to go down. The sky had started to let go of his typical blues and wear a purple-ish orange instead. The subtle darkness surrounded the slopes and the garden around the mansion, broken by the eerie light of hundreds of white candles and their reflections on the golden candelabras and the water on the four fountains, and in one case on one ice sculpture of an Eros. The silence was disrupted by a constant buzzing of about a hundred people wearing their best clothes and their fakest smiles.

Dean gulped and felt Cas taking a step closer to him. They looked at each other with wide eyes. Dean saw in Cas’ eyes a gentle kind of terror that he’d never seen before, but of course, any other time Cas had seen so many people, it was either by choice, or he had had the advantage of being able to stomp on them and fly off while cackling like a maniac, if he wished. Now they were both in the middle of something horrible, something so terrifying that not even the worst stories, the ones that Dean didn’t read to Cas to not freak him out, didn’t dare mention unless a brave knight was going to come to the rescue of the doomed protagonist.

A _garden party_.

“Okay, so maybe we can skip it again?” Dean suggested, but Cas frowned.

“No,” he said firmly. “You are going to talk to them tonight, just like we planned. The sooner you get this over with, the better.”

 _Damn_. Dean hated it when Cas was right. He had come this far, and he shouldn’t turn back now. Besides, now that he thought about it, maybe it was better this way. Both his parents would be busy with their guests and they wouldn’t have much time to argue with him. Yes, they wouldn’t be very satisfied that he showed up in their formal party looking pretty much like a hobo, relative to the other guests, but hey, what could you do.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’m gonna go look for them.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Cas, and damn the concern in his eyes; Dean felt like hugging him.

“Only if you want to,” said Dean. “I’m gonna have to be alone when I talk to them in any case, but you can come with me inside the house, if you want. Otherwise you can find a place to sit outside, even though you’re bound to draw some attention to yourself with that book and those clothes.”

Cas looked at what he was wearing and frowned.

“How can a few pieces of fabric make a difference? I will never understand how it works with your kind,” he sighed. “Anyway, if you think it isn’t wise to sit out here, I will join you inside and won’t bother you when you see your family.”

“You’d never bother me, Cas,” said Dean, nudging Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

They moved around the guests, most of whom Dean didn’t know or didn’t remember well enough. He answered to some surprised yet polite nods and a couple of handshakes while making sure that Cas stayed behind him; luckily, it was possible to hide him behind his back, which was a pleasant change. He looked around for any familiar faces.

He didn’t have to look for long.

“Dean!”

Dean turned around, relieved, and saw his mother approaching him. He had to admit she looked wonderful tonight; she was wearing a simple tan dress with light brown detail, much less formal than her guests. Her blonde hair was up in a loose bun, and she didn’t look like she had been sick for some time. She was smiling widely, and when she reached him, she hugged him tightly, laughing.

“Hey, Mom,” Dean muttered, smiling widely.

“Hello, you rascal,” she said cheerfully and let him go, taking a step backwards and dusting off her dress. “Dear me, look at you. Did you forget how to appear in front of people?” she teased.

Dean laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I had no idea there would be a party.”

Mary blinked. “Didn’t your brother tell you?”

“No, I haven’t seen Sammy since when we arrived”.

“He was supposed to have gone to get you,” said Mary. “Oh, I hope he hasn’t left in vain. Anyway, if he has, let’s hope he’ll give up the search soon. I’d hate him to miss it.”

“What’s the occasion?” asked Dean curiously. “I don’t remember you guys having a party in the house since I became captain.” _Oh_.

“Well, we mostly wanted to celebrate a success of your father’s,” Mary explained. “He managed to make a deal with Victor Henricksen – you know, that shipmaker from the Capital – and it seems business is going to go well this year. We weren’t going to have such a great party, but Sam said he had something important to announce, concerning him and you both, and he encouraged me to call people.”

“What, he didn’t tell you what it was?” Dean asked.

“No, even though I’m hoping you will tell me, if nothing else, for the satisfaction of being the only one who knows,” shrugged Mary.

“Ah,” said Dean, suddenly feeling his legs turning to jelly. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t tell her like that. What was Sammy thinking? “Well, the thing is –“

“Dean?” a voice interrupted him.

Holy crap. He’d totally forgotten about that. He slowly turned around and, of course, there she was.

Cassie looked beautiful tonight. She was dressed in green, wearing only a few delicate golden jewels that stood out. Her dark skin glowed under the light of the candles, and she had let her black locks free to surround her face and shoulders. She looked puzzled, but she was smiling, and Dean’s guts tied themselves into a tight knot when he realised he hadn’t thought about her for a while.

“Hello, Cassie,” he said, and for some reason, he couldn’t hug her. He took her hand in his own and kissed it lightly, while bowing. She looked surprised, but well, they weren’t even engaged, there were a lot of people around, and Dean really should have addressed her as Miss Robinson, but what the hell. “I’m so happy to see you,” he said awkwardly, just to fill the silence.

“I’m happy to see you too,” said Cassie, beaming. “I was waiting for you, you know. I heard about you coming back, and rumour has it that your crew found a _dragon._ ”

“Oh, I wanted to ask you about that too,” said Mary excitedly. “Is it true?”

“Well…” Dean took a deep breath. “He was the one to find us, to be honest.” He felt Cas shift nervously in his side. “So yes, it’s true.” Damn, that wasn’t right. He wanted to have a private conversation with each one of them, not blurt the news out like that. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned to look at Cas.

“Maybe I should go,” Cas said politely. “Call me if you need me, alright?”

“Oh goodness, I’m so rude,” Mary said before Dean had the time to utter a word. “I’ve been talking to you and haven’t talked to your guest here.” She took a step towards Cas and smiled at him, then looked at Dean again. “Won’t you introduce us, dear?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Dean mumbled. He turned at Cas. “This is Mary Winchester, my mother, and this lovely lady is Cassie Robinson, a… a very good friend of the family. Mom, Cassie, this is Cas –“

Oh, crap. Who was Cas supposed to be _? “This is Cas, short for Castiel, short for Castiel-The-Dragon-That-Made-Me-An-Aviator-And-Who-Can-Also-Turn-Human”_ wasn’t the best introduction if he wanted that night to go well. He turned Cas’ name into a cough and then cleared his throat.

“Caspar, this is Caspar,” he blurted out. Cas looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time in his life and Dean felt incredibly stupid. His mother and Cassie waited.

“Caspar… what?” Mary asked politely.

 _Think, Dean,_ think _. Dragon, scales, teeth, no,_ no _, that wouldn’t do, flight, wings,_ wings! “Uh, Caspar… Wi – “ _no, nobody’s called “Mr Wing”, what else, white wings, not white, silver, right, less than ten seconds, go for it!_ “Caspar Silv – Silverwing. Yes. He’s a soldier.”

“Silverwing?” asked Mary curiously, as she gave her hand to Cas for him to shake. He looked at it for half a moment and shook it gently. “Quite a peculiar name. Is it elven?”

“Er –“ started Cas.

“Aren’t you too young to be a soldier?” Cassie interrupted, and then she looked embarrassed. “Not to be offensive, just wondering. If I may, how old are you?”

“I’m thirty – ow!”

Yes, Dean could have been more subtle with his elbow on Cas’ ribs, but he thought he managed to turn it into a clumsy move. _Damn it, Cas, we’ve talked about how human ages work. You can’t say how many days old you are, jeez._

_I apologise. I forgot myself. I’m extremely nervous around people._

Dean choked at the sound of Cas’ voice inside his own head. He turned his head to look at him so fast that he actually felt his neck bones crack. Cas’ astonished expression matched his own. They almost didn’t hear Mary speaking.

“Thirty?” she asked through Dean’s fog of inattention. “You definitely have some elven blood in you. I could swear you look no more than fifteen.”

Dean watched as Cas tried very hard to focus his attention on anything else but Dean.

“Yes, I’ve been told that a lot,” Cas said politely. He seemed to be doing better than before, but Dean couldn’t count on it.

“Cas’ grandpa was an elf,” Dean explained, trying desperately to leave his mind blank. “Cas has been sent here from the Capital to, uh, check on the dragon we found.”

“Oh, so you’re an aviator?” asked Cassie, full of interest, while approaching Dean gently and stroking his arm, probably to remind him that he hadn’t greeted her properly. Dean had no idea why, but he felt a little uncomfortable.

“I’m just a trainee,” said Cas. “But I know a few things about dragons and De- Captain Winchester seemed to need someone like me to point him in the right direction.” He looked at Dean, as if asking for permission to continue.

Dean opened his mouth, but Mary beat him to it. “So you’re the one taking care of the dragon now? I mean, after Dean brought him back for your Order?”

“Actually, Cas, I can take it from here,” Dean said gently, hoping that Cas wouldn’t feel unwanted. Thankfully, Cas only nodded and then smiled at the two women before he stepped away. Dean tried not to think about whether Cas was inside his head or not. He tried to focus on his mother and Cassie, who were looking at him suspiciously.

He sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve got news.”

* * *

 

Well, it didn’t go that bad.

Like, they could have cried. That would have been worse, right?

Apparently, Sam hadn’t mentioned anything about aviators and dragons when he said he was going to announce great news. If Dean knew Sammy half as well as he thought he did, he had organised the whole “great news” thing to focus on his own promotion as a captain and not let their family freak out much about Dean’s situation, which was a smart thing to do and it would have probably worked if Dean had tried to contact him first, instead of making his family meet his humanised dragon and blurting out lies.

Ha. Haha.  As if.

Yeah, he really, really, _really_ should have left it to Sammy.

Dean did try to point out how great it was that they had a dragon in the family now, how few families were able to boast for something like that, and that Sam was the third Winchester captain of the Impala in a row, and that he was so young and achieved that on his own, Dean would have picked someone else if Sam wasn’t the best option, and look, it wasn’t that bad, at least Dean had gotten rid of his fear of heights. What his mother got out of it was that it was too dangerous for Sam to have so many responsibilities at such a young age, and he won’t have time to make his life, and what the hell was Dean going to do with _his_ life?

At that point, Cassie had turned her back and walked away, and Dean hoped to whatever fucking god was listening that what he’d heard wasn’t a fucking sob.

_Okay, Mom or Cassie? Flip a coin? No, Mom it is. Cassie can wait for a bit._

Dean tried to explain that there was no way out of it, that his dragon had chosen him and there wasn’t much he could do, and that he really didn’t mind. Mary, thank heavens, did actually listen to him. He did leave out the part of him getting a chance to get out of it and that his dragon was the one who managed to pull him back, but there weren’t many ways to explain that he actually wanted to be pulled back, and he was looking for a chance to blame Bela for stuff anyway. Mary, in the end, gave him her blessing, even if a bit reluctantly, and said she wanted to meet that dragon that was taking her son away. Dean promised that she would meet him before the night was over, possibly, and left to go and find Cassie.

He found her sitting by the fourth fountain, the one with the peacock spitting the water. He sat by her silently, not sure if he should speak or touch or just receive his well-deserved slap and leave. He put his elbows on his legs, tangled his fingers together in front of him and sighed.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked quietly.

He heard Cassie sigh and dared to look at her. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t speak.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he started. “It wasn’t my choice. One of my first thoughts, hell, my one first thought was that I didn’t want to be away from you like this. I don’t want to. I wanna try and make this work.”

“How are you going to do that, exactly?” asked Cassie, the disappointment in her voice poking at Dean’s chest. “You’re leaving for the Capital, aren’t you? And your job is going to be even harsher that the one you have now. You’re going to get yourself killed, Dean. Why didn’t you get out of this?”

“I couldn’t, Cassie,” Dean said, only a tiny bit defensively. “I just couldn’t. And I don’t know how am I going to make it, but I am. If you’ll still have me, I’ll make it work.”

Cassie averted her eyes.

“How can I still have you?” she asked, her voice trembling, and Dean should have expected that, but damn, it wasn’t nice.

“I’ll make it work,” he repeated, and he knew he sounded like a child. “You… you can come with me and live in the Capital, and I’ll be there as much as I can, and…”

He stopped. She looked at him, and he snorted. They both knew how hollow that sounded. She couldn’t follow him, and she wouldn’t. She deserved something better than an always absent husband, who would have to give his full attention to a dragon 24/7 and who would be in danger of getting killed in battle every day. She deserved better than waiting for the occasional little personal time he would have left; plus, Dean thought, he had already promised that little time to Cas and the things they could do to keep their minds out of the war.

Dean and Cassie’s relationship was definitely at a dead end.

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“Trust me, me neither,” said Cassie. “I hope you understand why I can’t follow.”

Dean nodded slowly, and tried to smile at her.

“I wish you all the best, Miss Robinson,” he said. Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Shut up,” she said and placed a gentle, quick kiss on his lips. She cupped his cheek with her palm.

“I wish you find what you’re looking for, Captain Winchester,” she whispered in his ear.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but she had already gotten up and was heading away from him, not looking back.

Dean sat there for a long time, and thought of nothing.


	8. Departure and Arrival

It took Dean a while to get up and go search for his father, and when he did, it took him a while to realise that his father might not be out with his guests but in his reading room instead. Dean had to bite his lip to not swear when he got out of the room; his father had better be competing in some kind of rudeness championship, otherwise there was no possible excuse for this behaviour.

Not that it was anything new, but still.

Dean knocked at the heavy oak door, waited for the gruff call of “Come in!”, and entered. His father was there alright, behind a pile of scribbled papers and old books. Who knew what he was obsessed with this time. He looked up when Dean came in, his dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, ink stains on his formal clothing – which he was probably only wearing due to Mary, in an effort to entice him to come out and greet the guests.

John smiled when he saw Dean, and Dean tried to do the same.

“Well, well, well,” said John. “If it isn’t my elder son. Did you finally remember us, son?”

His tone was teasing, but Dean could feel the double bluff. He just smiled a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Glad to see you, sir,” he said.

“Glad to see you too,” John answered, and made a gesture for Dean to sit. “Even though I don’t know why you came to this goddamn party. I hate it. There’s no need to prove anything to this damn high society. But your mother and brother insisted, and what can one man do against them, right?”

Dean nodded, trying to swallow the hedgehog that was apparently stuck in his throat.

“So, your brother tells me you have great news,” John said, not looking at Dean.

“Well, it all depends on the point of view,” said Dean. He took a deep breath.

“So, Dad, we, uh… we found a dragon egg.”

* * *

 

Again, it could have gone worse.

For one, John could have _not_ calmed down after the third time he threatened to cut Dean off, he could have _actually_ cut him off, and he could have remembered how their old fights over Dean disappointing him used to go, the days when Mary was sick and John was getting emotional over it. John did say that Dean at least _deserved_ to be cut off, but he wouldn’t be the one to do it for the sake of the family name.

John was still talking and trying to convince himself that the whole mess wasn’t happening when Dean was suddenly hit with the realisation that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the family pride.

He’d spent his entire life feeling proud to call himself a Winchester. His father had been a great captain and a good man – he’d saved his wife, found a job for his children, helped people in the war – and his mother was a strong woman who had taken care of a family even in her condition, and his grandfather had been a great academic in his time, and damn, his brother was the best person he’d ever known.

But damn it, Dean was tired of all this.

He was tired of being forced into the military, of trying desperately to live up to his father’s expectations and getting no acknowledgement of his efforts whatsoever. He was tired of having to care about everyone else but never about himself. He was tired of being a disappointment.

“I am going to talk to everyone I know in the navy and they will have to take you back in no time,” John was saying, as Dean got up. John looked at him. “I’m not finished.”

“No, I really think that’s enough, Dad,” Dean said, not sure where he found the courage. “I don’t want you to talk to the Navy. I’m staying in the military, just in a different position. That’s all.”

“Where are you going now?”

“To find my dragon and leave, since I’m obviously not welcome here anymore,” Dean said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Just promise me you’ll keep the party going for Sam’s promotion.”

“Sam’s not gonna get a promotion, kid. You’re gonna keep your place.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Dean, his voice shaky. “I’m going to the capital, and Sam’s gonna take the _Impala_ , and you’d better accept that, because it ain’t gonna change.”

Dean turned his back to his father and walked towards the door. He heard his father’s chair getting pushed against the wooden floor boards and he knew that John was up and pointing a finger towards his son.

“I ain’t done talking, Dean,” said John, his voice icy.

“Good for you,” said Dean, without looking behind him. “I am.”

He shut the door behind him. John didn’t follow.

* * *

 

Dean had only gotten out of the house and started looking around for Cas when Sam found him, looking exhausted, sweaty, and pretty pissed. Dean guessed that not finding his brother, having to organise a scheme to sugarcoat the recent events to his family, and then going all the way to Elaurans and probably from one favourite spot of Dean’s to another must have worn Sam out.

He was right.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam was asking, even though Dean wasn’t paying much attention. “You went and talked to Mom about everything before I was back? I had a plan!”

“Then you should have warned me about it before,” Dean whispered as loudly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to make another scene. “Where were you the past couple of days?”

To Dean’s surprise, Sam blushed. “I had some business of my own, okay?” he said. “The point is, I talked to Mom and Cassie and they’re both very upset with this whole thing. Cassie more than Mom.”

“Yeah, I know, but –“

“And who’s the guy you brought with you?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. _Shit_. He hadn’t thought about that. “Huh?” he said, trying to buy some time.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “When did they send another aviator from the capital?” he asked. “An elven one, on top of that? And why didn’t I learn about it? I made a complete fool of myself before, when Mom told me about a Cas you brought with you, I thought you brought, you know, _Cas_ , and I freaked out. What’s going on?”

Okay. Tell, not tell? What?

Not tell.

Better not freak out Sammy even more.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Sammy,” said Dean, making a dismissive gesture. “He’s just one of Bela’s assistants, he’s a cool kid. I’d better go find him now, this night has already been a disaster and I’d rather spend the rest of it resting.”

“Oh, come on now,” said Sam. “If I can handle Dad for an evening –“

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted. “I already handled enough of him. I’ll come and see you before I leave, okay?”

Sam didn’t hide his disappointment, but the truth was that Dean wasn’t leaving him much of a choice, so he gave up. Dean left him and went in search of Cas.

He found him sitting by the fountain with the mermaid on it, having finished half his book already, to Dean’s surprise. He looked up before Dean even called his name, and got to his feet immediately, his face concerned.

“What is it, Dean?”

Dean just sighed. He’d tell him everything when they were home.

* * *

 

The next few days passed quietly. Cas had been very bummed at first, after finding out the reaction of Dean’s family to his existence and the new duties Dean had to take over, and he had proceeded to ask Dean once more whether he was sure he wanted to be an aviator, and to reassure him he would accept someone else if Dean wasn’t okay with it. Dean had only wearily slapped the dragon’s shoulder and told him not to mention it again.

The fact that Dean and Cas had apparently formed a mind connection and could share thoughts when they concentrated was something they felt they should explore further. Dean had freaked out at first, but Cas didn’t seem surprised; he said that it was probably their blood bond and that it was nothing to worry about. They still couldn’t do it easily, as it appeared that at the Winchesters’ garden party it was more of a subconscious need to communicate than it was an actual effort, but they were working on it, even though it took a lot of practice. After a while, they realised it was easier to share their thoughts when Cas was in his human form, which he was using more and more frequently, mostly because he was excited about being able to read on his own. At least, Dean thought, the whole telepathy thing, or whatever it was, was an interesting way to pass the time.

The rest of the time they mostly spent separately. Cas was taking advantage of every opportunity he had to experience anything he wouldn’t have the chance to when they were in the capital – mostly anything that had to do with his human form, from practising his posture and taking care of the details that made him look non-human (and failing completely in the latter – Dean could swear the next few days Cas had small bumps on his shoulderblades, where his wings should be), to going into town and just watching people. Dean was reluctant to let Cas go into town alone, but hell, he had to trust him sometime. So when Cas came back the first day he announced that he really, really loved humanity, and that he would love to spend all his time among them, but still proceeded to spending the rest of the day flying and hunting in a really good mood, with the occasional break to ask Dean for a story.

Dean, on the other hand, mostly worked on everything that had to be done before he left. He took care of the papers that made sure that the _Impala_ was going to Sam, and then visited anyone that he wouldn’t see for a long time (maybe never again, a morbid part of his mind smirked malevolentlyHe took his breaks by telling Cas stories and swimming – damn, what the hell was he going to do away from the ocean? The capital was in the roots of a mountain range, and the most water they were going to see were in either rivers or lakes, which were good, but had too many shores and too little salt for Dean’s taste.

Dean also spent his time watching Cas, as usual. While his first instinct was to be happy and just join the dragon in anything he was doing at the time, he tried hard to continue writing down everything. He noticed that, after the first month had passed, Cas’ growth had slowed dramatically. Dean guessed, based on the info he found in the books and on Cas’ words, that dragons really did all the necessary maturing inside the shell and their bodies kind of made up for all the years of non-growing when they got out. Of course, Cas was still really young and he was bound to change even more, but for now he looked pretty much the same as he did a week ago, except maybe for the fact that he did indeed seem to grow hard, silver feathers on his wings.

Sam passed by the ship a couple of times during the next few days, still giving vague answers about where he was spending his time, and still being curious about who that strange guy from the capital was. Dean insisted on not telling him anything, to Cas’ annoyance. But Sam wasn’t coming to interrogate them, anyway, he just wanted to spend some time with his brother before he was gone and ask for useful advice on what he was going to do as a captain. Dean was glad to answer _those_ kinds of questions.

On the 29th of May, before Dean and Cas were meant to leave for the capital, Dean’s old crew came by, led by Sam and Mary. They had brought drinks and food and music, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer when they demanded a feast in honour of their former captain and his dragon, and well, their new captain as well. Mary took part in the celebrations, purposely avoiding the subject of why John hadn’t come to say goodbye as well. She was really excited to meet Castiel, the _real_ Castiel, and Cas was careful enough to not act like he’d met her before. All in all, it was a great night for Dean, and he couldn’t understand why he was so sad when he curled up to sleep next to Cas that night. Cas didn’t ask; he just covered Dean with his wing, and did nothing but hum inside Dean’s head to the tune of songs he’d only just learnt, making Dean fall asleep with a smile on his face.

On the morning of the 30th, Castiel flew Dean to the headquarters a bit later than they had intended; Dean had a lot of trouble leaving the _Impala_ behind. He had to promise himself he’d steer her again one day, no matter what, before he took his luggage and hopped on Cas’ shoulders. The journey was to begin at the local military HQ, so Dean and Cas had to endure lots of salutes coming their way. Rufus came out of his office and saluted as well, even though Dean didn’t really mind that; it was more of a friendly gesture between them.

Sam was there too, of course. His lips were a white line and his eyes were red, and Dean had to try very hard to ignore the burning in his own eyes and the cold hand of reality grasping his throat. Sam approached him and held out his hand, holding something in it. Dean leaned towards him and took in his palm the small object. He looked at it. It was a small brass amulet on a leather string.

He tried to talk, but his voice got stuck in his throat. He nodded, putting the amulet around his neck, and knowing he wouldn’t willingly take it off any time soon.

“Don’t you dare forget about me, you jerk,” said Sam, his voice choked up. “That’s cursed. If you do, it will strangle you in your sleep.”

Dean laughed sadly, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes.

“See ya, Sammy,” he muttered before Rufus gave the signal for Cas to go.

As Cas took off, Dean kept his eyes behind him, seeing his brother and his friends and his home just staying there insensitively, making no effort to follow him. He decided to focus on his anger about said rudeness rather than on any other feeling.

Cas, once again, didn’t try to make conversation; all he did was try and touch his mind, not sharing any thoughts, just giving him the soothing ease of his presence. Occasionally, he sent him images of what he was seeing with his completely different kind of vision, small details he noticed as he flew. Dean could only think of a million little thank-you’s.

They flew all day, not talking unless Dean was giving Cas directions. They only took two breaks to satisfy any natural needs that asked for stuff to be taken in or out, and then one more at night to sleep. Dean was certain they had reached Tissantel Forest by then. He insisted on not getting in the forest but staying near the start of it instead, because yeah, maybe Cas wasn’t actually an elven aviator or anything, but Tissantel Forest was full of them and they wouldn’t really welcome them. Safety first.

They didn’t speak much during the night and they went to sleep without even saying goodnight out loud, but Dean woke up finding himself hugging Cas’ arm. Cas was already awake, but he didn’t say anything; he only waited for Dean to finish his breakfast and silently took off with him afterwards.

It was afternoon already when they saw the end of the forest and the outline of the capital in the horizon. Dean heard Cas gasp, and he had to admit that he agreed with him.

The capital was nothing like Dean, let alone Cas, had ever seen. It stretched across the slope of the mountain, split in the middle by the river Nylas, climbing up the mountain like a living organism, looking as if it was going to start crawling towards the top any time now. Canals were glistening in the sun, even from a distance. In the highest spot of the city there was a huge building, towering above everything else, which Dean guessed was the palace of King Roman and the Council of Twelve. The entire city was encircled by high walls, and it was at least four times the size of Elaurans. It was separated from the forest by a wide road and a few small villages, which spread around the city. Dean couldn’t wait to see what it was like up close.

They only took one small break before they flew to the gates of the capital. Dean guessed it was better for them to enter the city like everyone else than just flying in. They landed outside the walls in late afternoon; the walls were at least sixty feet tall, thick as an entire village house, with strong gates and about a dozen guards on their posts.

“Halt!” one of them shouted. Dean looked up. Of course he’d halt. One, he wasn’t stupid, and two, the gates were freaking closed. If that wasn’t a clear “halt” sign, then Dean didn’t know what was. He got off Castiel’s back.

“State your name, rank and intention,” said the guard.

“I’m Captain Dean Winchester of Elaurans,” Dean answered, and then remembered how he should continue from now on. “…On Castiel. I was summoned to join the Aviator Order. I’ve got my papers with me, if you need to take a look,” and he took out said papers from his pocket and shook them slightly. He felt Cas shift uncomfortably next to him while the guards talked to each other.

“Wait here, sir, if you please,” said the guard, as his companion left. Dean nodded and waited. He looked at Cas, who was already looking at him.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” said Cas, but he did seem to calm down.

A few minutes later, the gates creaked. Dean squinted at first to make out the shape behind them as they opened and then his eyes widened. He felt Cas take a step backwards; Dean didn’t have to try and get into Cas’ mind to take in how intimidated he was.

The shape turned out to be a dragon. Dean tried to remember what he’d learnt from his books. Height, about eighteen feet; length, fifty-four, fifty-five, maybe; colour, greenish-brown; horns, small, yes, but they were there; no spikes; wings, large and leathery and clawed; limbs in general, six of them. An Emeray, then. Judging from the shape of the shoulders and the tiny webbings on the cheeks, probably a male one. On his shoulders, now that Dean cared to look, was a man.

Dean gulped, prepared to get back to the military way. He hoped people here weren’t as frigid as he’d heard.

The man jumped off his dragon’s back as soon as the dragon stopped moving. Dean noticed the dragon looking at Cas with interest, but then he turned his attention to the man, who was walking towards him, smiling. He didn’t look particularly intimidating; he was a bit shorter than Dean, with broad shoulders, dark hair and a smooth beard. He was dressed pretty much the same way Bela had been, with thick leather pants and boots, a simple shirt, leather gloves, a canvas vest full of pockets, and he had goggles hanging from his neck, instead of resting on his head. He was wearing an apple cap that looked a bit out of place, since it didn’t seem to be a part of any uniform.

“Morning,” he said, and Dean blinked in surprise. “You’re the new one, right?”

Wow. Casual. “Yes,” Dean said, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m Captain Dean Winchester, on Castiel, just arrived from Elaurans.”

“A northerner, huh?” the man said. “I’ve always liked Elaurans myself.” He held out his hand. “I’m Captain Benjamin Lafitte, and this is Balthazar. You call me Benny, alright? You two can follow us to the HQ.”

The man – Benny – turned around and walked through the gates, and his dragon followed, after checking behind him. Dean and Cas hurried behind them, glancing at each other. Dean felt a slight pressure in his mind, and for a moment tried to push it back, then remembered that was what it felt like when Cas was the one trying to communicate with him uninvited.

_Dean, that’s a dragon._

_Yeah, Cas, I know.  Keep it cool, we’re almost there._

_No, Dean, you don’t get it. That’s a dragon. A proper dragon. I’m going to meet_ dragons _. I have no idea what to do with them! How am I even going to talk to them?_

_Calm down, Cas. I’m pretty freaked myself about meeting aviators who are probably half my age and are already trained and everything. It’s normal. It’s gonna be fine. Benny looks like a good guy, how bad can his dragon be?_

_I don’t want to imagine._

Benny and Balthazar led the way into the city. The streets were wide and two dragons could walk easily side by side, sometimes even without disturbing the rest of the traffic. People were moving inside carriages, or walking, or on their horses, or on carts, or, in a few cases that Dean couldn’t stop himself from staring at, on some kind of strange vehicles, made of metal wires and sporting two wheels, a big one in the front and a smaller one in the back; there was a small, very uncomfortable looking seat in the middle and a sort of steering mechanism in the front, and sometimes there was a basket on it, as well as an annoying bell.

Benny caught Dean staring, and laughed. “That’s a bicycle, brother,” he said. “You don’t have those things in the north, right?”

“How the hell don’t they fall over?” Dean asked.

Benny shrugged. “Beats me. I only ever learnt to balance on a dragon, don’t need anythin’ like that thing between my legs. There are better things to put there.”

Dean laughed, feeling some pressure leaving his chest, and looked at Cas. For some reason, he looked a bit irritated. Dean guessed it was just the change in the scenery, and kept on looking around him.

They passed by the East Royal Highway, as Benny called it, which was one of the four main roads of the capital. If you found one of them, Benny explained, you could get to anywhere you wanted. They began at the centre of the city, around the palace, and spread across the four points of the horizon up to the capital’s borders, and continued outside the city to the four aviator villages; the eastern road led to Eurus village, for example. The road itself was definitely impressive, wide enough for many carriages to fid side by side, and surrounded by trees and a smaller, slightly elevated road to each side, which Benny called  a “pavement” and insisted that he and Dean walk on it; Dean found that ridiculous at first, but then he realised just how many vehicles moved in the middle of the street and Dean just went with the flow. It was nice not to be careful about carts all the time, anyway; all he had to pay attention to were the occasional baby trolleys, pushed by governesses more often than not.

The people generally looked very wealthy, and Dean wasn’t surprised at that, but he certainly felt uneasy because of it. His family was considered quite rich in Elaurans, but here he doubted they would stand out as much. Next to the walls encircling the city, the buildings started off low and away from each other, with beautiful gardens and ivy all over them. Each of them had a street lamp in front of the garden. As they moved towards the centre, the houses became taller and more luxurious; Dean saw a lot of marble and gold and several statues and fountains and colourful flowers. Some of the houses had two or three stories, but they didn’t resemble the few similar ones on Elaurans at all; somehow Dean knew these ones were meant for one family each, and somehow that made him uncomfortable.

Benny led Dean and Cas through some of the smaller streets, saying they needed to see more from the city than the main streets, which he called “just attractions”. Sometimes the roads were cut off by a small canal, or sometimes a bigger one, and there was a bridge that could barely fit a carriage, which they crossed to the other side. Usually all Balthazar and Cas needed to do was to step over the canal, but they had to fly over one a couple of times.

It took about an hour for them to reach the military headquarters. The building wasn’t in the centre, but quite close to the wall, relatively speaking. It looked more or less the way the HQ in Elaurans did, except that here the surrounding five domes were double the size of the dome in Elaurans. The main building was also bigger, but the structure felt familiar.

Dean watched as a guard disappeared inside the building before their small group had even reached the first dome. By the time Dean felt Cas and Balthazar stop behind him and Benny, a woman in uniform got out and stopped in front of them. Dean noticed that there was probably not a specific uniform for aviators, just a certain clothing style. This woman was dressed in canvas trousers, leather boots and an open brown jacket over her shirt, with her stripes visible on her shoulders. If they used the same stripes in the aviators as they did in the Navy, and Dean would bet his head they did, she was probably a general, or whatever name they had for their generals here. She was tall, with brown hair and steady steps. Behind her, to Dean’s disappointment, was Bela Talbot, smirking as usual.

“Captain Lafitte,” the stranger said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You may wait in Dome One, if you please.”

“Aye, ma’am,” said Benny automatically and saluted. “Come on, Balthy.” Dean watched him as he left, and he didn’t miss his wink. He looked back at the woman and saluted.

“Captain Dean Winchester on Castiel, ma’am,” he announced.

She nodded. “General Jody Mills on Naomi,” she said, and Dean didn’t miss how her eyes were switching from him to Cas. “Wing Commander Talbot here has been telling me a lot about you and your dragon, Captain Winchester. I have to admit, you two are a peculiar case. There are very few dragons who are born outside our jurisdiction and even fewer aviators who aren’t trained before they try to ride their dragons, let alone captains or anyone higher in rank than a private.”

Dean stared at her. “I am aware,” he said calmly.

She smiled. “Not to worry, though. I’m sure you two will do your best to catch up with the others. You will be led to your lodgings just outside the city in Auster Village, along with the rest of your fellow aviators and dragons, and the rest of the day will be given to you to rest from your journey and make yourself comfortable. Your training will start tomorrow. Make sure to meet Michael at seven o’clock tomorrow morning on the training grounds. I believe your training will be separate from the others at first, and I will need you both to work extra hard to catch up. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Dean, and he felt more than saw Cas nod next to him. General Mills smirked as she looked at Cas.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked him, but Cas looked too surprised to answer; usually, people talked to Dean, not him. General Mills huffed, sounding a bit amused, and turned back to Dean. “Okay then. Anything you need, you can contact Headquarters. Every first day of the month, you’ll be expected to come over and receive your salary. If you have any problems whatsoever, feel free to tell us.” She smiled. “I will leave you in Captain Lafitte’s hands now. He will provide everything you need, along with your uniform. I expect a lot from you.”

“You won’t be disappointed, ma’am,” promised Dean, and he kinda wanted to kick himself in the shin for sounding so confident because he sure as hell wasn’t, but General Mills seemed satisfied. She went back into the building, with Bela on her heels. Before she left, Bela gave Dean a poisonous look.

“Good luck,” she spat. Dean settled for raising his eyebrows at her.

They found Benny and Balthazar by the dome, and they soon flew off. Dean watched as Balthazar led the way. His movements when flying were much different than Cas’, Dean noticed; he was definitely using his tail more and his weight distribution was entirely different. He was just as graceful, though, and due to his size, looked far more dangerous.

They landed in the middle of one of the villages outside the city. Benny explained that they weren’t really villages; most of them were servant areas, one was the factory region, three were made of farmhouses, and the big four, Boreas in the north, Eurus in the east, Auster in the south and Zephyr in the west, belonged to the aviators for their housing and actual training. Balthazar finally spoke then, welcoming Dean and Cas to Auster Regiment, surprising them with his very Capital accent and lazy tone, as if he found all this procedure tedious and couldn’t wait until he got back to his own business, whatever it was; apparently, that was the case, because he left as soon as Benny groaned at his tone and took a bag off his harness, probably taking it as a hint that his job there was done.

“Don’t mind him,” said Benny, “he’s the snobbiest bastard you’ll ever meet, but he’s nice somewhere deep down. Now, you two will take these keys here,” and he gave Dean a couple of bronze keys on a ring. “The small one is for the small soldier’s room, the big one for the big soldier’s room. Easy, right?”

Dean couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Benny laughed as he led Dean and Cas to a series of rooms placed close to another dome. “Human room number 24, dragon nest… well, whichever one’s free. The baths are in the back building, the good bathrooms too. Knock yourselves out. And here,” he said, opening the bag, taking out some clothes and holding them out for Dean to take them. “Your first uniform as an aviator. Your captain stripes aren’t there, I’m afraid, but you’ll get them soon.”

Dean nodded, tucking the clothes under his arm. They were brown and leathery, and he wasn’t sure if he liked them or if he even wanted to look at them much. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Don’t mention it,” said Benny. “I’ve got to go now. If you need me, I’ll be at Ellen’s.”

“Which means?” Dean asked.

“It’s a bar called the Roadhouse, we hang out there sometimes. The owner is called Ellen,” Benny explained. Dean raised his eyebrows and Benny laughed. “Don’t worry, brother, this ain’t the military you’re used to. We’ll be waiting for you any time you want. If you need anything, the bar’s right next to the village’s southern gate. See ya,” he said and left.

Dean looked at Cas. “Well, you’re quiet,” he commented.

“Yes, I did just meet a dragon who refused to talk to me,” Cas pointed out with a surprising hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And now I’m supposed to go and meet more. I’m extremely nervous, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “You’ll do fine,” he said as he helped Cas out of his harness and gave it to him, unstrapping his baggage from it first. Cas’ grip had been improved ever since he started turning human, Dean noticed, and tried not to wonder when Cas would have the chance to do that again. “Just be yourself, okay?”

Cas tilted his head. “Who else could I be?”

Dean laughed. “That’s my boy,” he said. “Now go. If you need anything, just come knock at my door. I hope my room is private.”

Cas nodded and Dean watched him as he took a deep breath and entered the dome. He waited for a few moments but there were no screams or clawing and battling sounds, so he guessed things were going well.

He followed the wide, dried-mud street to the accommodations for the aviators, surprised at the fact that he didn’t see anyone around. He guessed most people were either in training or at any bars or inns or whatever kinds of entertainment were around there. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to meet people soon.

He found his room, which was more of a bungalow, stuck in a row of identical little houses. It wasn’t much bigger than a room, actually, but Dean decided to call it his house; it just sounded better.

He opened the door and got in. It wasn’t much. There were a couple of lamps, and what looked like a small kitchen, and – wow. It even had a tiny bathroom. There was a single bed, a couple of chairs and a small table, a large chest, and three narrow cupboards. There was a single shelf above the bed, and a tiny bedside table. Above the bed was a window with no curtains. Dean opened one cupboard. There were a few sheets and blankets and a couple of pillows, as well as two rather pathetic towels, one so large that Dean could put two Sams inside it, the other so small Dean doubted it would do for his face. Luckily he’d brought his own. In the bathroom he found soap, thankfully, and in the kitchen he found, well, absolutely nothing.

Well, it _really_ wasn’t much.

He unpacked slowly, making a mental note to ask for a couple of hooks for his wall so he could put up his hammock (because he sure as fuck had brought his hammock with him) and placing his few clothes and bed covers inside the cupboard. He put the three books he’d brought with him on the shelf, and tried to make the shitty place feel a bit like home. When he was done, he wasn’t sure whether he was excited to transform it or miserable because he was stuck with it.

He decided not to go find Benny, but to go to sleep early instead. He didn’t manage to sleep properly until he’d heard people noises, and assumed everyone had come back from the bars and training sessions and everything else they did with their lives.

He thought of Cas and he honestly prayed the dragon was doing better than he was.

* * *

 

That really couldn’t be happening.

Dean was used to being woken up by a million different brutal ways. He’d been a sailor for the biggest part of his life, after all. He had been woken by splashes of cold water on his face, or by being grabbed and thrown overboard, or by a drunk fellow sailor puking his drunk guts on what he thought was the toilet when it was not so obviously Dean’s lap.

But a fucking _rooster?_ Come on.

Dean groaned as he stretched. On the other hand, he had no idea what time it was, and he hoped it was earlier than seven; he’d hate to screw things up on his first day.

There was a hard knock on his door.

“One sec!” he shouted and cleared his throat to get rid of the sleepiness. He got up, trying to remember where his clothes were.

“Dean?” came the voice from outside.

“Cas? What is it?”

“We need to be in the training grounds in fifteen minutes. Everyone else is ready.”

“I’m coming, _I’m coming!”_ groaned Dean and dressed as quickly as possible, using the clothes Benny had given him the previous evening. Leather pants, of course, and the colour of cinnamon for that matter. Dean tried to not feel ridiculous. He wore the tan tunic he was given and the leather vest with the approximately one million pockets, and wore his own boots, since there weren’t any new ones for him. He walked out of the room rubbing his eyes and wishing he’d had the time to do something more than just putting water in his mouth and spitting it. Cas was waiting with his harness in front of him.

“Quickly,” he said. “The other ones don’t take their harness off when they’re sleeping. I don’t want to be late.”

Dean frowned as he helped Cas with his harness. “Well, aren’t you excited,” he commented. “How did it go with the others? Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Yes, I believe so,” said Cas, as Dean tested the straps and got on. He saw a few aviators going to the dome, finding their dragons ready and flying off without as much as glancing at them. Cas followed before Dean was ready.

“Whoa, Cas!” shouted Dean, as he grabbed on tight. “Warn a man!”

“Sorry, but I don’t want to lose them,” Cas said, with a much smaller amount of guilt in his voice than Dean thought was proper. “See that small red one over there, flying in the rear? That one is Anna. She talked to me a lot last night.”

“Anna?” asked Dean. He had expected something more impressive for a dragon, but what the hell. “What’s she like?”

“She’s very nice. She made me feel comfortable when the others were looking at me strangely. She’s an Angel too,” Cas explained as he speeded up.

“Well, I’m glad you’re making friends, Cas,” said Dean and patted his dragon’s shoulder. _Let’s see when the fuck I’ll be following your lead_ , he thought, but didn’t say anything, and hoped his thoughts channel wasn’t still open to Cas.

They flew for less than five minutes, and followed a few more dragons in flying over a wooden enclosure and landing in the middle of a sandy arena just outside Auster. Castiel landed last, and took a look around. There was a huge dragon waiting for them there already; brick red, with wings so big that they barely folded properly on its back. Dean felt uneasy, especially because there was no rider next to the dragon. At that thought, he gulped; maybe that was an exercise for dragons and he wasn’t supposed to be here. He glanced at the other dragons.

There were five of them, and all of them had riders. Dean sighed in relief and eyed them all for a moment. There was the red one Cas had pointed to, Anna; she was a little larger than Cas, her scales a deep blood red, disrupted by gold and orange patterns. Her rider was a young blonde woman who eyed Dean with a surprised smirk. Next to them was Benny with Balthazar, and, to Dean’s dismay, Bela. She was riding a huge black dragon, much smaller than the red one in the middle, but slightly larger than Balthazar. Dean tried to recall the dragon’s name. Abaddon, was it? Yes. Abaddon, then. She had bright red eyes and claws that could probably tear another dragon apart without even trying, and she was moving so terrifyingly gracefully that Dean immediately mentally noted to never piss her off. Next to Bela was another big red dragon, smaller than the one in the middle, but definitely of the same species; a Firebreather, Dean guessed. He looked male, judging by the angles of his body, and he was such a dark red that he looked black in some spots. He yawned theatrically in Dean’s general direction and eyed Cas in a way that made Dean shift uncomfortably. His rider was, to Dean’s surprise, a young man with black hair and an embarrassed look, who smiled at Dean nervously. In the end of the line stood a very unlikely pair, quite different from what Dean had imagined. The dragon was dark blue and wingless, and didn’t look as if it was meant for warfare. Dean tried to remember a dragon that could fly without wings, because he had definitely seen all of the dragons fly here, and recalled that Locharts, the lake dragons, could ride on air currents. The dragon’s rider was a nervous, unshaven man who gave the impression that all he needed from his life was a cup of coffee, a robe and a good hot bath in a bathtub about a thousand miles away from the nearest military base.

Dean had really thought that there would be more of them, or at least that they would be more warlike.

He bit his lip angrily. This wasn’t an army. This wasn’t even a regiment. This was a joke. And where the hell was this Michael who was supposed to train them? Maybe _he_ would have some answers.

Before Dean even finished his thought, the riderless red dragon in the middle moved.

“Good morning,” he said and every movement around him stopped. “I trust you all know what to do, even after a night of frolicking.” He stared at the aviators and the dragons alike for a moment, and then turned his eyes towards Cas at first, and Dean right after. They were blue with golden irises and it felt like they were piercing Dean’s very soul. “To the newcomers, I welcome you. My name is Michael and I will be the one to make you worthy of this army.”

Dean blinked in surprise, and remembered to salute a little too late. Michael frowned and looked at the others. “The rest of you, start the dodging exercises. Balthazar, Captain Lafitte, you be the attackers in the first round. I’ll be back to check on you in a moment.” The dragons scattered and Michael turned back to Dean. “Now, you two. Follow me.”

Michael spread his massive wings and flapped them a couple of times before he took off and left the arena. Cas followed as quickly as possible; Dean noticed that his movements weren’t as precise and graceful as other times. They landed just outside the arena, with Michael eyeing Dean and Cas with something that Dean hoped was interest.

“I’ve heard a lot about you two,” said Michael, folding his wings on his back and whipping his tail. Dean noticed a big scar on his shoulder and guessed he had been though many battles. “Dean Winchester and Castiel, the two northerners that managed to surprise us all. Are you sure you’re up for this, boys?”

“Yessir,” said Dean. Michael looked at Cas.

“Yes,” Cas repeated after Dean.

“Alright. But I need to warn you, this is not going to be easy for you. Everyone else here has been training ever since they were infants, and only now are they training along with their dragons. As you can see, most of both the aviators and the dragons are quite young.”

“I have to say I’m surprised,” Dean admitted. “I expected… well, _more_ people in the regiment, to be honest.”

Michael hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. “Let’s just say we’ve had… issues.”

“May I ask what kind?” asked Dean.

“There’s no need to dwell in the past, Captain Winchester,” said Michael sternly. “The point is, where are we going now? And _now_ , we need to train our regiment to be strong and follow the Crown’s orders.”

Dean listened carefully before deciding to speak. “Why isn’t there word out there?” he asked. “Why don’t we recruit more members? Pardon me, sir, but we can’t win the war like this!”

“We are lucky enough that we got Castiel already when we didn’t expect a new member,” said Michael, and Cas shifted uncomfortably; Michael looked at him. “You were found on an Elavorni ship, am I right?”

“Indeed,” answered Cas. “I’m happy to be of service.”

 _No, you aren’t,_ thought Dean.

“I’m glad to hear that, even though we must keep in mind that the Elavorni have noticed your absence and are not happy about it,” Michael warned them, and Dean frowned.

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Dean. “Is there a problem?”

“Well, there will be consequences for sure,” Michael commented calmly. “But you don’t need to worry about that or about the regiment’s future or population, Captain Winchester. What is done is done, Castiel is with us and does not plan to join the other side any time soon, am I right? What you two need to do is focus on getting good at fighting together, learning our ways, getting stronger and better. You will need to work very hard; this is no picnic. Are you ready to start?”

“Yessir,” said Dean, and he was pretty sure that Cas murmured it at the same time. Michael nodded.

“First of all, I will need you to do some speed exercises,” he said. “And then we’ll start with the real stuff.”

Dean wasn’t really looking forward to that.


	9. Training

It turned out that Michael didn’t need a military uniform or any stripes on his shoulder to be the most intimidating superior Dean had ever had to face in his entire life.

The training started right away. Michael made Cas demonstrate his flying and every manoeuvre he’d ever come up with, and seemed to be impressed by Cas’ ability to hover and by his, as Michael described it, unusual ability for speed. Apart from that, Michael gave him advice that wasn’t far from hard critique, which definitely made Cas fly better by the end of the day, but Dean couldn’t help getting pissed.

Very soon, the rest of the dragons and the aviators came to watch. Michael had each of the dragons go after Cas in friendly combat, so that he would get more familiar with it, as the aviators watched. The one named Anna went first. She warned Cas before she attacked, and showed him a few ways to either dodge the attack or counter it, and Dean decided he liked that one. Her rider, the girl he learnt was named Jo, was equally nice. Abaddon followed Anna. She attacked without a warning, and Michael had to yell at her to stop at some point. When Dean glared at Bela, she blew him a kiss and went to find her dragon. Dean’s anger was boiling inside his chest as he watched the smaller Firebreather go for Cas. The red dragon was ridiculously polite, but his attacks were well-thought and precise, even if a bit unethical for Dean’s taste. His rider, the young man whose name Dean found was Kevin, just sighed at that. He said that he was trying to get his dragon under control, but Crowley was a difficult bastard to get along with. After Crowley, it was the Lochart’s turn. Dean watched as the blue dragon quietly approached Cas, and he was about to laugh it off, as the dragon looked too weak, until he saw him strike unexpectedly fast, and in spots that left both Dean and Cas breathless, for different reasons. The dragon’s rider, Chuck, just tiredly shook his head. He said he wished he’d gotten a different dragon, and that he was ashamed to admit it, but damn it, Metatron was a pain in his ass. Balthazar came last. Dean was a little worried, as the Emeray wasn’t exactly the friendliest dragon they’d met so far, but he turned out to be better than most, showing Cas what to do instead of stepping onto his reasonable weaknesses. Dean guessed the snobby dragon wasn’t so bad after all.

The exercise was repeated with the aviators on their dragons’ backs, and it didn’t end until late in the afternoon. By then, Dean was feeling his stomach rumbling like crazy, as he hadn’t eaten in maybe more than a day. He followed the others to the dome, without speaking much. He got in, following Cas to the nest he’d chosen. It wasn’t much different than the one in the dome back in Elaurans.

“So, how’re you feelin’, Cas?” he asked as he helped the dragon out of his harness.

“I’m tired and need to hunt,” Cas answered grumpily. “But it’s better than what I expected so far.”

“Wait until the real training gets started,” Chuck commented from a couple of nests to the right. “Not to be pessimistic or anything, but it sucks.”

“Wow, thanks for the positivity,” said Dean sarcastically as he put Cas’ harness on the side.

“Hey, you take that out?” asked Jo, coming closer. Dean frowned.

“What, the harness? Of course,” Dean said.

“That’s weird,” Jo commented. “Why are you doing that? Is he injured?”

“No,” replied Cas, “I just always take it off at night.”

Dean ignored the surprised looks from the others. “Nevermind that. Is there a place to go hunting?”

Benny laughed. “They’ll bring the food here. No need for hunting unless they wanna try a little bit of sport.”

Dean could feel Cas’ disappointment, but he didn’t do anything but pat the dragon on the shoulder. He looked at him. “Do you need me for anything? Do you want me to stay?”

“No, Dean, I’ll be fine,” Cas said, curling in his nest. “You go.”

Dean nodded and followed the others outside, his eyes still on Cas.

* * *

 

Benny, Jo, Chuck and Kevin welcomed Dean to their small company as they led him to the Roadhouse – Bela preferred to take her leave. Dean couldn’t guess at first why there was a bar inside a military village but he wasn’t about to complain. The place looked nice, exactly as sketchy and neglected as a bar should be. Dean found out it wasn’t actually a proper bar, it was more of the kitchen of the regiment. There were too few of them left to keep an actual schedule for food or put out long tables. The woman who owned it, Ellen Harvelle, turned out to be a likeable lady with a tough attitude. She welcomed Dean warmly, but slapped his hand when he offered to get Jo a drink.

“What?” he asked.

“Keep your hands to yourself, boy, or I won’t be responsible if you find a snake in your drink,” Ellen warned him and he turned to Jo, puzzled. Jo sighed and held out her hand theatrically for him to shake.

“Yeah, since we haven’t been properly introduced, it’s about time,” she said. “Presenting Officer Joanna Beth Harvelle on Anna, and this one behind the bar is said officer’s mom.”

“Oh shit,” muttered Dean and Benny laughed loudly.

“Just keep your head low, brother,” he advised. “Don’t get too excited until you meet everyone.”

“Well, I’ll try,” promised Dean with a hint of teasing in his voice. “It’s not like there’s many of you anyway.”

“That’s just rubbing salt in our wounds, man,” said Chuck, who had already emptied half a bottle. “It hasn’t been easy, you know.”

“Well, that’s true, but there’s no need to bring Dean down with you,” said Benny and turned to Dean. “Dean, meet Officer Chuck Shurley. He’s got enough reasons to be cranky, spending his life on Metatron’s back and all, but don’t ask him for advice.” Benny poured some golden liquid in two glasses and gave one to Dean.

“Why is it so hard, though?” asked Dean, taking the glass. “I mean, I thought you were supposed to be kind of connected with your dragon?”

“Oh, I am,” said Chuck. “Try being connected to that fucker.”

“Try Crowley and then we’ll talk,” said the boy named Kevin, talking for the first time. He held his hand out for Dean to shake. “Officer Kevin Tran,” he introduced himself, “and please tell me we’re not supposed to call you Captain and salute.”

Dean laughed. “No way. It’s pretty awesome that you guys don’t really pay attention to ranks.”

“Well, it would be ridiculous with so few of them, wouldn’t it?” Ellen commented from behind the bar.

“Why are there so few, anyway?” asked Dean. “I asked Michael, but –“

“Oh, no, big mistake,” Jo interrupted him. “Never ask Michael about anything. He will either not answer, or you won’t like the answers he’ll give.”

“But –“ started Dean.

“No ‘buts’,” said Benny. “Anythin’ you wanna know, ask one of us.”

“Okay,” Dean conceded. “Then what the hell is up with this regiment? Are the rest like this?”

Dean watched as they looked at each other. In the end, Ellen sighed.

“I’m afraid this is the last aviator regiment, kid,” she said.

Dean’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“We’re the last ones standing,” Benny repeated. “It ain’t known because it would ruin everyone’s spirit. Who’d keep on fightin’ if the supposedly strongest warriors were done for? But we’re the last ones left, and this is what’s left of the last ones left.” He emptied his glass.

“Wait, _this_ is the entire aviator army?” asked Dean, scandalised. “We’re supposed to take on the Elavorni fleet single-handedly? The six of us and – and Michael?”

“Well, not just that,” Kevin protested, embarrassed. “There’s General Mills with Naomi, who has no reason to join the training, and there are plenty of aviators who’d join the fight but have no dragon to ride at the moment, and are working at the HQ as healers or tacticians. But we are waiting for an egg to hatch.”

“And there’s always Gabriel,” added Jo.

“Who’s Gabriel?” asked Dean.

“He’s a Royal who recently joined the regiment,” Benny explained. “He was living like a hermit for I don’t even know how many hundred years, maybe even from before the war started, and a couple of months ago, he just knocked on our door and said he wanted to help out.”

“He knocked our door down, you mean,” Chuck corrected.

“Pretty much,” Benny continued. “He hasn’t accepted a rider yet, though, and not many are willing to try their luck with him. He’s got a pleasant attitude alright, but I don’t wanna know what’s inside that bastard’s head.”

“Still,” Dean insisted, “that’s it? A handful of aviators, nine dragons and an egg? That’s not an army. This isn’t even a regiment!”

“We know, brother.”

Dean recalled something he’d heard once before. “What about the Royal dragons? Not the breed, I mean the ones used by the royalty. They do exist, right? That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, as far as we know, the Council uses dragons too,” Charlie said. “But we’ve never seen them. They keep them in the Capital.”

“Aren’t they allowed to help out?”

“No, not really,” said Chuck. “They’re not meant for war; they’re only there for the Council to feel powerful. It’s a horrible way to treat dragons, really.”

“Can’t at least some of them join us? How many are there?” Dean insisted.

“We don’t know how many of them are there,” said Benny. “We’re guessing twelve, one for each member of the Council, maybe? If there’s more of them, that’s just rude. But they won’t join, anyway. We’ll have to deal with being just us.”

“There used to be more of us,” said Jo quietly, “but there was a horrible battle three months ago. People didn’t hear about it, it was between us and the Elavorni aviator army. Many died, and many were taken.” She sighed and continued with her voice trembling. “My dad was there too. Not in the prisoners, in the body count. I saw him only after they’d brought him back.”

Before Dean had the time to say anything, Ellen spoke. “Yeah, and you had to take over his dragon, didn’t you? As if our family hasn’t suffered enough.”

“Stop it,” Jo pleaded. “I want to fight for what my dad believed in.”

“Bullshit,” said Ellen, looking at all of them. “I’m all for defending the country, but this part of the army can’t do much anymore. And I sure as hell don’t wanna watch all of you die for a lost cause.”

“Well, we can’t let the Elavorni rule over us, can we?” said Kevin. “We need to fight. And we need to take our prisoners back. Until then, the war can’t be over.”

Ellen huffed as Dean frowned.

“What’s exactly the deal with that?” he asked. “What happened in that battle?”

There was a pause. Then Chuck took a deep breath. “Well, they attacked out of nowhere, for starters. They commandeered a fort near Central, and they didn’t have to fly all the way from Elavorn. How they managed that without anyone from here to Elavorn noticing, I’ve no freaking idea. They attacked in the middle of the night, right after we’d buried one of our oldest and most valuable members, Joshua. He was Michael’s tutor. His rider was killed during the attack, along with Michael’s. They were best friends.”

“And of course, those weren’t the only ones to be lost that night,” continued Jo. “They caught us entirely off guard. I wasn’t even an aviator yet, I was a trainee. Anna picked me for her rider after… well.”

“Bill Harvelle was one of our best aviators,” Kevin explained quietly. “Anna was his. She just went on with the bloodline, since she’d known Jo for years.”

Dean hardly knew what to say.

“And what of the prisoners?” he asked.

“They captured a lot of us,” said Benny. “Most of all, they cared for the dragons. As far as we know, their army lacks fighters the same way ours does. They sent a message when they first took them, that they’ll return the riders if we’re willing to let go of the dragons, or they’ll return all of them, if we agree to join their army against the rest of our military. As you can see, both options are out of the question. The second message they sent when we insisted was that they were keeping our army since we stole their egg.”

Benny didn’t need to look at Dean for him to take the hint.

“But that’s bullshit,” he protested. “Battles happen all the time. We didn’t attack the frigate for Cas’ egg! We just happened to find it!”

“Would you believe that, if you were in their shoes?” asked Ellen. “Or would you show the enemy that you believe that? No. You’d ask for what was rightfully yours, or whatever.”

“Nobody’s thinking of giving Castiel to them,” Jo spoke before Dean managed to protest. “It’s just an excuse for them to blackmail us and keep us in our place.”

Dean felt the anger boiling inside him.

“And what are we gonna do about this whole thing?” he demanded. “It’s been three freaking months already! Don’t you think they’re gonna start getting tired of this whole thing soon? What will happen when they do?”

“And what do you propose to do?” asked Kevin. “Remember what’s left of us? How can we attack them and free our friends? How do we even know they’re alive? What if we walk right into a trap?”

“And what are you planning, then? Do nothing?”

“Look, brother,” Benny interrupted. “I wanna free the others as much as you do. In fact, I’m pretty sure I want it more because of, you know, actually knowing them and having spent most of my life with them. But there isn’t anything that we can do right now.”

“What about negotiations?” asked Dean. “What about compromise? Isn’t there anything they’re willing to give up?”

Benny laughed bitterly. “Would _you_ , if you had that much power over your enemy?”

“If they have that much power, why didn’t they bring down the whole regiment, then?” asked Dean. “They know how weak our army is; why haven’t they attacked the Capital already? What are they waiting for? If they’re not interested in killing off all of the army, then what do they want?”

“We don’t read the letters they send General Mills, Dean,” Jo reminded him. “We’re just soldiers. I wish things were different, but they’re not. All we can do is wait and hope for the best.”

Dean didn’t answer. He focused on his drink, trying to get rid of the feeling that he had just jumped into a pit of worse shit than he had been in at home.

The rest of the evening passed with easy talking. Some of the dragonless aviators came to join the rest of them in the bar, after getting released from the Headquarters: Garth, the guy Dean had seen in the Elaurans Headquarters was with them, who really seemed like a nice guy, even though Dean had the impression that he was trying a bit too hard to be likeable. Gordon, a guy not much older than Dean, came by a bit later and seemed to be very interested in Dean; he brought up the matter of action against the Elavorni, but the others stopped him quickly. A girl named Becky appeared and sat next to Chuck, and Dean learnt from the others that she hoped to never get a dragon, but she wanted to support the army from the office position she was holding now. A brunette named Pamela sat by Dean and flirted with him so much that she managed to make him feel embarrassed. He was saved by a redhead by the name of Charlie whom he instantly liked and whom he spent the rest of the night talking with.

He left before he got drunk, wanting to see Cas for a bit. Hanging out with people with only four limbs was great, but he was a bit worried about Cas; he had been awfully quiet that morning.

He reached the dome and tried to listen for any talking inside. Silence. He looked through the massive gate.

“Hey, Cas,” he whispered.

No answer. He wondered if he should try and speak into Cas’ mind.

“Cas!” he whispered a bit more loudly. He saw the white scaly hill on the other side of the dome move as Castiel raised his head. Dean gestured to Cas to follow him outside. Castiel’s nostrils flared, but he obeyed.

“How’re you doin’, Cas?” asked Dean as soon as the dragon was out. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” said Cas, and, honestly, Dean shouldn’t have been surprised at his honesty. Not everyone swallowed their feelings. He started walking towards the village’s gates right next to the start of the forest, hoping Cas would follow him – which he thankfully did.

“What happened?” asked Dean hesitantly.

“I just don’t like being unable to spend time with you,” admitted Cas. “I knew it was going to be this way, but I really dislike it.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

“And it’s not just that,” continued Cas. “You’d said it was going to be easy. Now I’m learning about things we had no idea were happening. They told you about this, didn’t they? Prisoners and hostages and random attacks in the middle of the night? I’d rather leave with you and disappear, and never hear about the military ever again. I didn’t choose to be a soldier, and I don’t like thinking that I was created to be one.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “Where did you hear about the attack?”

“Dragons talk too, Dean. I was bound to hear about it,” answered Castiel. “Were you planning on keeping this a secret from me?”

Dean exhaled nervously.

“Well, no, not a secret,” he tried to explain. “I wasn’t planning on hiding it from you, I just thought you didn’t have to find out. Not yet, anyway.” _Because you’re young, and you’re an oasis of optimism in this damn army, and if I lose that, I don’t think I’m gonna find my will to live ever again._

“Well, I did find out, and you should trust me with these things,” Cas demanded. “I should know where we are standing and what our fate is.”

“Don’t talk about ‘fate’, Cas. Nothing is written in stone.”

“I think there are some things certain,” Castiel insisted. “Like the fact that I was, apparently, _bred_ to become a soldier in a doomed war, only here to die so someone else can take my place.”

 _No, Cas, damn you, don’t lose hope, please don’t._ Dean tried to reach for Cas’ mind, but he found it closed to his probing.

“Come on, Cas, don’t think like that,” Dean pleaded. “It’s not like this.”

“It is, and you know it. There are soldiers kept as hostages for four months and they’re doing nothing to save them. What makes you think it will be different for you and me?”

 _Nothing, nothing makes me think that, we’re not different than any other. We’re meat, and that’s the truth, but that’s not the truth I want for you. Don’t be realistic, please go back to being naïve. Please open up your mind to me, I can’t do this, Cas, I can’t_.

“Cas, I swear, don’t lose hope, okay? We’ll find a way. We’ll win, I promise you.”

“No, we won’t,” stated Cas. “Can we leave?”

“What?”

“Please tell me we can leave, Dean. Escape this and go somewhere else, by the sea, or wherever you want. Anywhere that isn’t here.”

“Cas –“

“I don’t think I can do this, Dean. I don’t want to be just a tool in the war. I want to do something else, anything.”

All right. Dean didn’t need this. He had his own doubts; he didn’t need those of a freaking teenage dragon as well.

“Cas, we’ve been through this. Say we did leave. Where would we go, huh? They’d find us before we even reached the forest.”

“Not if I change,” Cas suggested and Dean averted his eyes as the dragon shrank into his human form. Dean looked again when the horrible noises of stretching skin and cracking bones was over.

“Damn it, Cas,” he snapped, taking off his coat clumsily and throwing it to Cas, “what are you doing? What if someone sees you?”

“Nobody will see me,” said Cas stubbornly, putting the coat around his waist and holding it there. “Do you really want this life? What if they decide to give in and we have to join the enemies? Will you be as devoted then?”

“Why –“ Dean started, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Why is this suddenly about devotion? You know where I belong, and what I believe in. You know I’ve been fighting for the Crown all my life, and I won’t stop now!”

“Exactly! And what has changed? You’ve wasted your life so far fighting for something that cannot come true. We can’t end the war, Dean! I’m not –“

“Shut up, Cas,” muttered Dean.

“I’m not making this up,” Cas insisted. “I’ve been _talking_ to the dragons. Michael has seen six riders, Dean, and the war is still raging. We cannot win this. Let’s get away from it, _please._ ”

“Cas, just _shut up!”_ yelled Dean.

Cas stared at him, a deep line between his brows, his mouth tightened, his eyes burning into Dean’s very existence. Dean couldn’t stand this. Not again. He wouldn’t have Cas bail on him.

“You don’t know anything about war,” Dean said, his voice shaky. “I want to live in a place where my kids are free, where they won’t have to be taken away to be soldiers and give up on their dreams in order to fight. I want this war to be over so I can live in peace for once.”

“What I know is that this is futile,” said Cas quietly. “Your children will be taken to be aviators because that’s how it is, and you can ask the rest of your new friends if you won’t believe _me._ ”

“Is this what this is about?” asked Dean, furious. “About me making new friends?”

“This is ridiculous. Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Why didn’t I see it earlier? Ever since we met Benny you’ve been acting weird. Did you think you’d have me all to yourself or somethin’? Cause it doesn’t work that way, Cas! We’re best friends and all but –“

“Don’t you dare take anything back,” roared Cas and Dean could swear the earth trembled under his feet, despite Cas’ human form. “You told me once that you’d rather have me than an entire fleet. Well, if you want me, you won’t stop me from talking to you. You’re deliberately avoiding what I want to tell you because you’re too scared to face it. I want us to leave this place so we can have a quiet life somewhere, where I won’t have to see my kind getting killed for the war of your people, and where you’ll be allowed to see your brother whenever you want and steer your ship into new waters and marry the woman you want. I only want what’s best for us. I thought you did too. We gave a vow, remember?”

“Well, we didn’t really say anything, Cas, did we? I don’t think it counts as a vow,” growled Dean before managing to stop himself.

Cas’ eyes widened, and Dean gulped. His heart was beating terribly fast inside his chest. He could hear the tiniest sounds around him: the noise of a cricket, the buzzing of a fly, the breeze between the leaves. Cas was just staring at him, the few remaining scales on his slim shoulders glistening under the moonlight.

“Right,” he said calmly. “It didn’t mean anything, did it?”

Dean couldn’t help watching as Cas turned his back on him and went back into his dragon form, walking towards the dome.

“Hey,” Dean yelled hoarsely after him. “Cas, wait, I didn’t mean –“

Cas turned his head and looked at him.

“I gave you the chance to walk away from all this, Dean,” he said. “I didn’t want to be forced to turn into a soldier. I won’t be the same if I do. I have memories of hundreds of dragon generations pulsating inside my head; I know I will change if we stay here, and it won’t be for the best. I see who these dragons inside this dome used to be, and I see who they are now, and trust me, there’s a difference. If you want us to be warriors for this goddamn war, then so be it. But if you dare think of me as anything below you again, if you even think for one moment that you are wiser, that you’re superior because you happened to walk this world earlier than me, I swear in the name of our friendship, I will _end_ you. Do you understand?”

Dean didn’t find anything to answer. Castiel just turned the other way and walked away until he disappeared into the dome.

Dean picked up his coat and returned to his room, wondering how many things he was allowed to screw up before nature itself gave up on him and chose him to be the next victim of natural selection. The way he saw it, he didn’t have long.

* * *

 

The next morning Dean woke up before the rooster, if he even slept at all, which he wasn’t sure he did. He got up and wondered for a moment whether he should try to swallow his tongue and be done with it, or maybe he should ask Michael and the rest of the regiment to stampede on him. Anyway, what he was certain about was that he didn’t want to face Cas, or anyone else, for that matter.

He stayed in bed for a while, playing with the amulet Sam gave him in his fingers, thinking about the previous night. Damn it. What was it that he’d said before? Never deny Cas anything. But this wasn’t a simple matter; this was about his entire life and all his goals. Would he ever give it all up? Could he ever leave the army knowing that he could literally be the one number making the difference between defeat and victory, between life and death, and all that just for Cas?

Well, it wasn’t really “just” for Cas. And it wasn’t as if he was happy being a soldier, he was just satisfied he did what needed to be done. He could understand why Cas didn’t like it, and wondered why Cas had chosen him in the first place. He had assumed dragons were kinda programmed to be soldiers and just picked the human best fit for that role. If it wasn’t that and Cas didn’t want to fight, what was it? What was it that made dragons fight, if they didn’t want to do so? Were all the other dragons like this when they’d come here? Were all the other soldiers as unwilling as Dean? Were the Elavorni soldiers and their dragons like this too? And if nobody wanted to fight, why the hell were they still fighting?

He sighed. Well, nothing could be done. These were revolutionary thoughts and he shouldn’t think about stuff like that. Besides, Cas was his problem now. He should have told him earlier if he didn’t want to come here. Or he should have insisted more. Or he should have forced Dean into not coming, in the worst case.

Like he tried to do last night.

Fuck.

Cas was way too mature and Dean kept forgetting just how young he actually was, Dean realised for the millionth time. Even Cas’ human form was a teenager. He had his doubts and his fears and, well, maybe some rebellious instincts just like every other teenager in history. Dean was way too focused on seeing Cas as a big scary dragon to remember what he actually was. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten that. And now he didn’t even know how to deal with it. He felt like he should act like a parent, but he didn’t feel like one, especially not to Castiel. He couldn’t see him as a kid, because he wasn’t one, but he couldn’t treat him anymore like he had so far, because Cas obviously couldn’t handle it. And of course, all Dean managed with that trail of thought was to get even more depressed.

He groaned loudly, got up, got dressed, and checked outside the window. It didn’t look like seven o’clock yet. He had time to pass by the Roadhouse and get some breakfast. When he got there, woke up Ellen, kept his grumpy face on and kept asking for the time, Ellen threw a pocket watch and about a dozen curses at him, and told him to keep them all and make the best of them. The rest of the aviators joined them pretty soon, but they didn’t talk much. It was too early, after all.

Dean arrived at the dome at a quarter to seven, according to his new watch. Castiel was there, waiting for him, his harness in front of him, and Dean wished for the Earth to open under his feet and swallow him whole. He cleared his throat.

“Mornin’, Cas,” he muttered.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas said; his greeting was the typical one Dean might expect, but it was given coldly, something with which Dean had little experience. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered as he helped Cas with the harness. They didn’t talk much as they took off and headed for the arena.

They arrived on time, and Benny took Dean aside to give him everything he would need. The coat with his captain’s stripes was ready, and Dean was given a gun to try out and a new sword, similar to his old one, but – and Dean fought hard not to scream – made of dragon steel. Dean tried it a few times, and jumped back on Castiel’s shoulders, ready for the rest of the day.

That day’s training programme was just as hard as the previous one. The aviators were made to balance on their dragons’ backs as the latter performed some extraordinary manoeuvres, and Dean had never been so glad he had had some previous training with Cas (even though he was pretty sure Cas was being a little harsher with his movements than necessary). By midday, Michael had sent Dean to the smiths to have a new harness made for Castiel, one that would fit him properly even after he’d finished growing, and that would also keep Dean’s legs strapped on and his back close to Castiel’s, because apparently Cas was capable of quite high speeds that Dean couldn’t handle if he wasn’t staying pushed flat against Cas’ neck.

Dean snacked on a strange kind of dry bread and squishy cheese while waiting for the smiths to take Cas’ measurements.  When Cas was done, Dean headed with him back to the arena, where the training continued.

After the training session, Dean said goodnight to Castiel and followed the others to the Roadhouse. He wanted to talk to Cas, he really did. But he thought he’d sound like an idiot. He had no idea what to tell him. How could he ever admit that he agreed with him deep down? Cas would never take him seriously again.

So he did the healthy thing and ignored the problem, hoping it would go away if he looked at it through the bottom of a bottle.

The next few days passed in a similar way. Laconic greetings, hard training, bonding with the aviators, guilt for Cas and constant worrying about him. Dean didn’t try to make any mind contact with Castiel. He wasn’t sure he could make it anyway, not without Cas’ permission; besides, he was afraid of what he would find inside Cas’ mind. A week passed, and Dean still didn’t make a move, kinda hoping that Cas would try and talk to him, maybe. But Cas didn’t talk to him more than it was necessary for their training, and his pokerface was so damn good that Dean had no idea what the dragon was thinking. He didn’t look angry, but then again, his performance on the trials Michael was putting him through had improved an awful lot, and Dean was wondering whether Cas was taking out his anger on imaginary enemies.

The night of the eighth day in Auster, Dean caught a gun in his hands for the first time during the training. The ammo was nothing more than rock salt to prevent serious accidents, but Dean did really well. A bit too well, actually. At some point, he realised he hated his targets more than anything. This couldn’t go on; he needed to calm down and resolve his issues like a grownup. He wondered what his mother would say if she saw him behaving like this; that pretty much did it for him.

That night, Dean didn’t go to the Roadhouse with the others; instead, he followed Cas to the dome and helped him out of his harness – which, indeed, did seem a little tight, and Dean felt guilty for not taking it off Cas the previous days, knowing how much Cas disliked it and how hard it was for him to take it off on his own.

“Can we talk, Cas?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” said Cas, sounding surprised. Dean sighed in relief. He’d expected a no more than anything else.

“Um… do you wanna walk with me?”

Cas shrugged and followed Dean towards the forest, just in the place where they’d been last week. Dean took off his coat and held it towards Cas.

“Here,” he said. “Go nuts.”

Cas frowned.

“I do not understand.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Come on, do your thing,” he said. “Turn human.”

Cas shook his head.

“No, I’m not going to do that,” he said. “It’s way too dangerous, you were right. Maybe some other time, when we’re alone.”

“We _are_ alone, Cas.”

“Not alone enough. The other aviators are all awake, and the others in the dome asked me why I smelt of human the last time I did that. Imagine that coming from dragons who have spent _years_ along with humans.”

Dean sighed and let his arm fall on his side.

“Fine,” he said. “Look, I wanted to talk about… about last week.”

“What about last week?”

“Come on, don’t do that,” pleaded Dean. “It’s been one of the most horrible weeks of my life. I can’t stand not talking to you. I know I was wrong, and I’m sorry, okay? I acted like a jerk again. It’s what I do. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s okay,” said Cas, and Dean really didn’t expect it. He was waiting for the shitstorm to come his way.

“It is?” he asked in disbelief.

“Sure,” said Cas calmly. “It’s obvious that the reasons you’re in the military are a sensitive topic for you. I learnt that back in Elaurans and yet insisted on my own views. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, but Cas –“

“It’s also obvious that it’s important to you to keep on fighting for what you believe in. I can’t take that away from you. The moment I chose you was the moment I bound myself to you, and that means all your choices. If what you need to do is help end this war, then this is what I will do. I’ll stay with you to the end.”

Dean swallowed. He really didn’t deserve this. Hadn’t Cas gotten the memo? Dean was a failure of epic proportions, he wasn’t worthy of a dragon following him to death. Cas was right about the war, he was right about everything. And if Dean hadn’t been so stuck in his father’s wishes and in rotten ideals, he’d have seen it earlier. The war was a lost cause, and they should get out of it as fast as they could. He didn’t know how, but maybe Cas had an idea, and Dean had told him off before he got the chance, and then stayed away from him in the most shitty way ever.

“Cas, listen to me,” he said, “I wasn’t right, okay? I wasn’t. I don’t care about the war.”

“Of course you do,” Cas said. “And you _were_ right. I shouldn’t have doubted everyone here. It’s not like everyone would sacrifice their lives for a hollow cause.”

Dean frowned. “Cas, did you talk to anyone these days?”

“Of course I did. I needed someone to talk to, didn’t I?”

Dean ignored the black little monster of guilt poking his guts.

“And?” he asked.

“And they made me see how wrong I was. I won’t cause any more trouble.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean insisted. “This isn’t you! Where’s the revolutionary spirit?”

“Buried deep down, where it should be,” said Cas seriously. He sighed, and his expression calmed a little bit. “I don’t want us to get into trouble, Dean. You were right, we can’t just leave. Our best chance of escaping the war is winning it. I’ll try to make a difference so it’s over soon.”

Dean could swear he felt a cold hand squeezing his heart. “Cas, no,” he said weakly. “What happened to you? A week ago –“

“A week ago I didn’t have my priorities set right,” Cas interrupted him, the annoyance in his voice crystal clear. Then his expression softened. “Look, Dean, I don’t want us to fight. This has been a horrible week for me too. Can’t we just work together in peace and try to achieve the goal for which we were brought here in the first place?”

Dean wanted to argue. He wanted to punch Cas in the face until his brain was set back right inside his head. He wanted to yell until his throat was bleeding that no, the war wasn’t what Dean was interested in, and that he was wrong and selfish and blinded by the habit of fighting.

But most of all he wanted his friend back.

He sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. We’ll work it out.”

“Thank you, Dean,” said Cas softly and Dean managed to smile.

* * *

 

The next day, Dean was relieved to find out that Cas was acting normally around him again. There seemed to be no shadow of what they’d talked about, no mention of bailing on the whole army, no talks of war and peace and possibilities they wouldn’t be able to put into practise. Dean started thinking about whether Cas was right, and figured that they wouldn’t be able to escape the war anyway. They didn’t need to depend on false hopes. All they needed to do was keep going on with their lives.

The training stopped a little earlier than usual that afternoon, because news came in that the egg hatched. Lieutenant Gordon Walker was to be the one to take care of the newborn, since he was the one that had been waiting for a dragon the longest (and was already holding a grudge towards everyone younger than him that had gotten a dragon already). The hatching and bonding between the two took all evening, during which Michael had given up on trying to discipline both the aviators and the dragons. At about 9pm Gordon came out of his room holding a small tan dragonet with a few red and turquoise patterns on his back, and told everyone his name was Samandriel. Dean just _had_ to laugh when Castiel looked at the tiny dragon with wide eyes and an expression of fathomless affection, and later stated that he was sure he hadn’t been _that_ small when he had hatched.

* * *

 

The next couple of months passed terrifyingly quickly; before Dean even noticed, it was September already and he was looking forward to the winter. The days were long, and the sun was hotter in Central than it was in Elaurans, and Dean’s days were mostly focused on waiting for the night to come and the breeze to help him cope. The training continued mercilessly, with few breaks that were filled with alcohol and life stories and the occasional walks to the city with the rest of the aviators.

Dean and Castiel would go flying together sometimes, like before, but they were usually both exhausted and tended to end up lying down by the roots of Tissantel forest, close to the riverbank, just spending some quiet time together, usually just swimming and practising how well they could communicate without speaking. Their ability to speak into each other’s mind had much improved, and they had both given up on trying to explain how they had gained it in the first place. Dean was as able to reach for Cas’ mind as Cas was able to touch Dean’s, and sometimes, Cas joked about Dean getting more powerful and about him waking up to a pair of wings and a tail attached to his body any time now; Dean did freak out a bit at that thought, impossible as it was, but at least he appreciated Cas’ efforts to learn how to joke. He still read to Cas very often, and they both pretended that Cas wasn’t capable of changing into something that could use the books on its own.

Generally, Cas was far quieter than he had been before. Dean supposed it was because he was maturing, but he did miss Cas’ old self sometimes.

On top of everything else, Castiel had gotten the hang of being a soldier far more easily than Dean would have liked, and he was really good at it. He rarely needed advice anymore, all he needed was suggestions. And while his growth had slowed dramatically, it hadn’t stopped. His body hadn’t grown _that_ much, but his neck and tail were longer, and he was definitely heavier where all the muscle from the long trainings had settled in. His features were a bit more angular than before, and the patterns on his back had started growing tiny bumps across them. His scales were thicker and his talons were sharper, now that he put them in test every day, and his wingspan had to be at least forty feet across, with his wings a mess of hard, sturdy feathers that really shouldn’t be smooth to touch, but they somehow were. Last time Dean had measured Cas, he had come off as twenty-five feet long and about fifteen tall, if he stretched as much as he could. He was already bigger than Anna, who was already several years old – Dean didn’t know how old, exactly, but she had been Bill Harvelle’s for a long time before she picked Jo to replace him, so she had reached maturity a long time ago. Dean just had the impression that Cas was getting bigger than he should, but then again, maybe it was a male-female thing; he’d guess he’d wait and see until both Cas and Samandriel were mature enough to compare. And, coincidentally, little Samandriel was the third Angel dragon to be brought to Auster.

Dean watched from a distance as Samandriel grew up. Being the second youngest there, Castiel had sort of taken him under his wing, sometimes literally. The first month, Cas was the one to keep Samandriel company when Gordon was not available – which happened a few times too many for Dean’s liking – and also the one to teach him a few moves and attacks when he was the proper size to start his training. Dean really liked Samandriel; he was kind and very pleasant to be around, and he seemed to have a lot of potential. Dean hated his impression that Samandriel never heard a good word from Gordon, but the dragonet still adored him. Dean had overheard a loud argument one day, when Samandriel had asked Gordon to take off his harness at night, just like Cas, and Gordon had snapped at him. He had talked to Cas about it and Cas had looked equally concerned, but they had no right to interfere with another dragon’s upbringing, so they just kept a close eye and made sure Samandriel was having a good time when he was away from Gordon.

Generally, being an aviator was easier than Dean had thought at first. Of course, there had been no battles so far, and it was easy to forget that the war was still raging. He often sent letters to Sam and sometimes even got answers (Sam was managing with the whole captaincy thing, the crew was doing well, and apparently, Sam was really sorry for not seeing Dean more before he left but he had met a girl, Ruby, who had left soon but kept sending him a couple of letters every now and then, and generally Sam was a bit smitten. Dean couldn’t get mad at the kid).

The most important thing that Dean found out from Sam’s letters was that things were quiet in the Navy too. He couldn’t understand why. The aviators on the other side of the war should have contacted them by now, at least to tell them that they had executed some of the hostages or that they were intending to slaughter them all if they didn’t do this or that, only they hadn’t made any contact. The enemy Navy wasn’t moving at all, or so it seemed, and it didn’t make any sense to Dean.

He’d asked Michael several times, as well as General Mills, but he wouldn’t get an answer on why the regiment didn’t act to get the hostages back. It had been _months_ , for crying out loud. Dean had even volunteered to go out looking for the base of the Elavorni and seek out the prisoners, but they had told him it was too dangerous. Dean had actually had to bite his tongue not to say that _duh_ , of course it’s dangerous, imagine the wonder of you sending someone to go with me. But nobody seemed to be willing to do anything or even let him take the situation in his own hands.

At least, the theoretical part was going well. Cas wasn’t the only one who was doing good. He really did inspire the rest of the dragons, especially Samandriel. The rest of them had taken his determination for enthusiasm and had answered with trying their best. Sometimes, they were even joined by Naomi, General Mills’ intimidating Frostling, or even Gabriel, the weirdest dragon that had ever crossed Dean’s imagination; he was a sixty feet long copper monster with two pairs of golden wings – okay, one pair was really small and it wasn’t actual wings as much as it was fans, but it still made Dean think it was pretty awesome – who tended to be a sarcastic bastard and who made Naomi snort frozen wind currents; before meeting him, Dean could never imagine a dragon actually playing pranks on people. As seniors, Naomi and Gabriel were both mostly helping out Michael, but they sometimes took part in the actual training, usually resulting in a hard competition that only those two would win.

Dean was slowly learning everyone’s battle style. Anna was straightforward, hitting quickly, spraying burning hot gas in the face of her enemy, temporarily blinding them or causing hallucinations that only Balthazar appreciated, to Michael’s disapproval; Gabriel had seemed to enjoy them as well, but Michael never commented on Gabriel’s actions. Gabriel, on the other hand, was a sneaky bastard. He created the most unbelievable diversions and struck at the exact moment nobody was expecting him to. As a Royal, he had the pretty badass ability to spit actual lava on his opponent, and Dean was happy he had never seen that in action; it was far too dangerous, and damn it, Gabriel didn’t really need it to function.

Balthazar pretty much followed Gabriel’s example; Dean at first had thought Balthazar had copied Gabriel’s moves, but in the end, the only thing they had in common was the trickery and the instinct of survival. Gabriel liked to play with his opponent; Balthazar tricked and stroke quickly and efficiently. Naomi, on the other hand, had a terrifying strategy that started with freezing body parts of her opponent and watching them suffer as she took care of more important things, like the final target of the exercise.

Crowley now, he was the creepiest son of a bitch Dean had ever met, dragon or human. He was powerful and challenging, and he liked to remind his opponents how much better he was. He never underestimated anyone; he watched closely each and every one of his teammates, and stepped on their weaknesses mercilessly. When he was in their team, he reminded them of their strengths. His sole goal was to win, Dean had realised soon enough, and while he respected him, he couldn’t like Crowley for the life of him. Abaddon, he also disliked. She reminded him too much of her rider. She was sarcastic and full of herself and she liked things bloody, and she freaking smiled while she destroyed them; Dean was expecting her to flip out, slaughter everyone and write “chaos rules, motherfuckers” in their own blood on the walls someday.

However, the one who Dean actually loathed was Metatron. Nobody had the right to look so innocent and quiet and terrified of life and be such an evil asshole. Because damn, Dean would never be convinced Metatron wasn’t evil as fuck; he had no idea how Chuck put up with him. He was sneaky and conniving and looked harmless enough, and maybe that’s what made him so dangerous; you would never suspect him of knowing things about you that you hadn’t even realised yourself. Dean almost wished Metatron had been on the other side of the chessboard just for Dean to be allowed to watch Cas kicking his ass.

Most importantly, though, Dean was learning Castiel’ moves very fast. Cas was extremely flexible and fast and he took in new information very quickly. Even though Anna had been spending time with him, trying to help him learn how to breathe gas, he hadn’t managed it so far, but he had other talents. His strange ability to hover on the spot, even for a long time, made it very easy for him to change directions unexpectedly and puzzle his opponent. He struck quickly and usually got the job done with one hit. Samandriel was clearly trying to copy him, but Cas and Anna were trying to help him find his own style. Dean was really happy to see Cas playing big brother with Samandriel; it made him feel for his dragon even more. Because yeah, he could relate to Cas, being the big bro of an awesome kid called Sam; sue him.

Of course, it wasn’t like the dragons were the only ones training their asses off. Dean and the rest of the aviators were exercising every single day, either with their dragons or without them. Most of it was about offensive and defensive techniques, positions and air formations, but there were a lot of things that required just physical exercise and making themselves stronger. Dean had to admit that his arms hadn’t been so thick even when he was a sailor climbing masts and pulling ropes twenty-four seven. He had had to learn a hundred new techniques and strategies, because believe it or not, ship and dragon steering were two completely different things, and an airborne regiment had to be careful and aware of entirely different dangers.

By the end of October, Dean was starting to believe there never would be an actual battle and that the Crown only kept them as decorations. There was no word from either the hostages or the Capital, and the training had slowed down an awful lot. Dean and Cas had lots of time to themselves to read and just relax, and while Cas kept prodding Dean to try out if he had gotten any unusual abilities from their vow so many months ago, he still refused to take his human form, even if they were a hundred percent they were all alone. Something about the change of perception caused by a human mind, that’s what he had said. Dean hadn’t insisted, even though he’d really like to see Cas’ human face again. He’d have loved to take him out for drinks.

Apart from his time with Cas, Dean was getting to know the other aviators better. He spent a lot of time with Benny, whom he really considered to be like a brother, and who made him feel nostalgic about Sam. He was a really nice guy who had signed up for the aviator order when he was in his teens because he was having a crappy life, and Dean had so much respect for him it wasn’t even funny.

Charlie was pretty awesome too. Dean was surprised at how easy it was for him to talk girls with her, even though she’d be a lot better if she wasn’t teasing him all the time that “it takes one to know one” and poking him every time a male aviator bent over. But Dean easily forgave her because she was really all he wanted from a pal, and decided to not freak out that apparently, either he _did_ stare at male aviators more than he had thought, or Charlie was able to look into his brain and see that he actually used to stare a bit when he was younger. Hey, he couldn’t help it; he saw something good-looking, he looked. That was how it went.

Jo was also a pretty awesome person, and for some reason all Dean could think about was that she could really hang out with Ash. When he mentioned Ash to her, she laughed her ass off and told him that Ash got the money to move to Elaurans by working in the Roadhouse, so many years ago. Dean was extremely surprised. He had no idea Ash had come from the Capital; damn, it was a small world after all.

Kevin was a cool guy to hang out with. Garth could be annoying sometimes but he was fun when he let himself free, Pamela was intimidatingly badass, and Chuck and Becky might not be the most fun people to have in your company, but they were really reliable and Dean genuinely liked them.

In fact, Bela and Gordon were the only people Dean didn’t come close to during those months; all the others were pretty awesome. They’d told him their stories and he’d told them his. Most of them had grown up in the Capital or Auster, normally; some of them even had generations of aviators behind them. Dean found out that Kevin’s mom was among the hostages; he couldn’t believe how strong the kid was being. Of course, all of them had experienced losses; Jo explained to him at some point that after her dad died, Anna had never been the same. She lost her rider and one of her favourite dragon companions in one day; she still hoped Inias was alive, of course, but without any news from the hostages, they could never be sure. Dean hadn’t asked for the names of the rest of the ones lost in that battle, either those taken prisoners or the dead.

He didn’t think he should be there, dining with those people, when there should have been others in his seat.

It was November 5th when Dean decided he couldn’t take it anymore and left the training grounds during lunch break to go to the Headquarters. He was tired of waiting. He had been waiting for five months now, and meanwhile, people were being kept Gods knew where. Best defence is a good offence, that’s what his dad always said. Castiel followed, more because he hoped to change his mind than anything else, or so he said, even though Dean was hoping something of the old Cas still remained somewhere in there. They flew into the Capital without even bothering to announce themselves to the gate guards and landed in front of the Headquarters.

Dean led Cas to one of the domes, planning to let him wait there until he talked to General Mills; who, by the way, he had not the slightest freaking idea on how to find.

As it seemed, that wasn’t going to be a problem.

General Mills was in the dome already, and surprised, looked directly at him when he entered. Next to her was a slim, round-faced brunette, dressed in a way similar to the aviators, only her clothes were deep red and black instead of shades of brown. Behind her stood the creepiest dragon Dean had ever seen. Every instinct of him told him it was an Anthrax, it had to be, only instead of black it was a diseased white, its eyes a shade of milky red that made his blood chill. What the fuck was this? There weren’t any other aviators except from the ones in Auster, the hostages and the ones in Elavorn. Could she be –

Dean shook off his surprise.

“General Mills,” he said and saluted. “I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” said General Mills. “Did my message reach you already?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“They sent you to answer my message, right?”

“Uh… yes,” said Dean, deciding to bullshit his way out of this. Better that than admitting to disobeying. “But they didn’t tell me exactly what my duties are, ma’am.” Long shot, but it just might work.

General Mills didn’t seem to notice anything. “Captain Winchester, I want you to meet –“

“Second Lieutenant Meg Masters on Lilith,” interrupted the brunette and saluted lazily, smirking. “Charmed, Captain.” She turned her face towards him and Dean saw a huge bruise that covered half her face, one that her hair couldn’t hide, and he glanced at a big half-healed wound on her dragon’s underside.

“Captain Dean Winchester on Castiel,” answered Dean automatically, even if a bit reluctantly. He turned back to General Mills. “Ma’am, what is the issue, if I may ask?”

General Mills sighed. “Second Lieutenant Masters has had a rough time, Captain. She claims to have valuable information for the order, and she’s under witness protection. I need you to take her to Auster to talk to Michael immediately.”

Dean eyed the newcomer carefully. She smiled to him, wincing at the movement of her bruised lip.

“What kind of information, if I may ask, ma’am?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her.

“About the war,” she said before General Mills could answer. “And about your hostages, and about the attack that’s gonna happen soon. If you want to survive, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

Dean frowned. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I got my ass kicked while escaping that pit trying to get to you guys,” she said, “and by the way, I expected some chivalry from the Capital men. We hear a lot about you guys down in Elavorn, I wouldn’t like to be disappointed.”

Dean’s eyes widened and she cackled.

“So what do you say, pretty boy?” she asked. “Are you gonna trust me or not?”


	10. Action

It wasn’t easy to talk to someone with both parties flying on the backs of dragons, but even if it were, Dean wouldn’t have made an effort to talk to Meg. He let her fly in front of him and Castiel, slowly, paying attention to her every move, trusting Cas not to lose his way. _“Trust her.” Huh. Trust her my ass._ Dean could not really believe that an enemy officer would suddenly decide to give up on her people and instead of fleeing for her life, go _join the other side,_ for crying out loud. No amount of bruises and cuts on Meg and Lilith’s bodies would persuade him. He felt a little better knowing that General Mills had handcuffed Meg just to be sure, but he also knew that just like he could trust Cas to gnaw off a chain in a matter of seconds, if needed, then Meg could probably ask her Lilith to do the same; especially if Lilith really was an Anthrax, like Dean suspected, she probably had teeth on her tongue or something; those creatures were freaking _creepy_. Also, handcuffs weren’t enough for people from Elavorn, especially when said people admitted to be treacherous; but at least Dean knew that Cas had reached levels of speed that no other dragon in the regiment had, so if Meg and Lilith tried to escape, he’d definitely catch up on them and kick their asses, which Dean really wanted to be given the chance to do. Especially now that he was taking a better look at Lilith’s back as she flew in front of him, his desire to kick some Elavorni butt increased a freaking _lot_. How could he trust people that branded their dragons between the wings? How hot could something be to burn off a dragon’s scales, just to form the encircled sun and three moons of Elavorn? Dean shivered even in the thought.

Dean didn’t need to tell Castiel anything for them to manoeuvre next to Meg and Creepy Lilith McCreeperson just as they reached Auster. Dean glanced down at the arena, and saw that most aviators and their dragons were already there. He couldn’t see Gordon and Samandriel anywhere, but every other pair was there. He gestured to Meg to follow him down, and didn’t take his eyes off of her until they landed. He jumped off Cas’ shoulders and saluted as Michael approached him. The rest of the soldiers kept their place, even though Dean could see the concern in their faces. It varied from worry to anger to sympathy to plain fear, but it was there.

Dean’s eyes focused on Michael.

“Explain yourself, Captain Winchester,” Michael ordered, and the dragon’s voice was so cold you could preserve meat in it. “You have many things to answer for.”

“I will gladly answer your questions, sir,” Dean said, and decided to wait for the questions first before he said anything stupid.

 _Can you handle this?_ Castiel’s voice echoed inside his head.

 _Yep, I’ll be okay_ , Dean thought.

“First of all, who are they?” asked Michael, looking at Meg and Lilith. “Are they hostages? If they are, why are they walking free?” Meg got off Lilith’s back and saluted awkwardly, since her hands were still tied.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m Second Lieu–“

“I’m talking to Captain Winchester,” Michael interrupted, not looking at her. “He will be the one to answer.” Meg wisely shut it as Michael raised his eyebrows at Dean questioningly.

Dean swallowed before he spoke. “This is Second Lieutenant Meg Masters, sir, and her dragon is called Lilith,” he explained. “They come from Elavorn.”

“I can tell from the woman’s clothes and the dragoness’ vulgar branding,” commented Michael. “Why are they here, Captain Winchester? Why are they walking free?”

“Well, not exactly _free_ , per se”, commented Meg, shaking her cuffs and making a small clanging noise.

“Silence, woman!” hissed Michael. “You’re _too_ free until there’s a dungeon around you.” He turned back to Dean. “ _Why_ are they here?”

“General Mills’ orders, sir,” explained Dean calmly. “Second Lieutenant Masters claims to have important information for our army. General Mills thought it wise that she was brought here for interrogation. She sent a message about it, I believe.”

“That she did,” Michael confirmed. “Tell me, Captain, how did you know that she was going to send that message?”

Dean blinked. _Busted_. “Uh… excuse me, sir?”

“The message, Captain, arrived _after_ you left,” Michael said. “You gave no warning to anybody, you took off, and now you come along with an Elavorni couple, claiming to have talked to Jody Mills, whose actual orders came _after_ you apparently knew of them. Do you think I’m unreasonable, Captain, to find this strange?”

Dean heard Cas gasp next to him.

_Calm down, buddy._

_This is extremely unfair and insulting. How can he be suspicious of you!?_

_Well, he’s_ Michael _. Of course he can be suspicious. I’ll handle this, don’t worry._

Dean tried to keep his expression steady. “No, sir, I don’t believe you’re unreasonable,” he said carefully. “But if you let me explain –“

“How did you know about General Mills’ message, Captain?” Michael insisted. “Is there any chance you had already read it in your own time? Maybe when you wrote it yourself, or when your Elavorni ally here wrote it for you?”

Dean heard the shocked gasps from the other aviators. Cas let a low growl that was more of a rumble on the earth than an actual sound, and Dean put his hand on the dragons’ arm to calm him, even though he had to admit that he shared the feeling. Suspicion was one thing, but right-out accusation was another. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything impulsive.

“I didn’t write the message, sir,” he said as calmly as he could. “I believe it must have been sealed with General Mills’ crest, and if not –“

“How do you know how it was sealed, Captain? Have you seen it before?”

Dean wouldn’t have been able to stop Cas even if he’d tried. “Aren’t _all_ messages sealed within the military?” Cas asked furiously. “Why would this one be any different?”

“You’re forgetting your place, soldier,” Michael fumed.

“No, I’m not,” Castiel insisted. “I have the right to speak if my aviator is being accused with something I know he’s innocent of. You are missing the whole point. There’s information to be given and you would get all your answers if you just let Dean and Second Lieutenant Masters alike speak, instead of making assumptions. You’re focusing on one small detail that you’re not even sure of, and instead of taking decisions after you have all the facts, you try to prove your power by almost tarnishing the name of an officer who, in the end, was just doing his job. This way of thinking has brought the army into this condition, and it must change before we get lost in the battle of fighting each other!”

Complete silence followed Castiel’s words, as everyone stared at him, astonished. Dean realised that his jaw was hanging open and hurriedly closed it. Cas looked just as confused as everyone else. When Dean tried to reach for his mind, he didn’t find any access to it. Cas just seemed to be completely taken aback at the words that just escaped his mouth.

Michael opened his mouth and Dean could only watch, having the feeling that time had slowed down. For a fraction of a second, Dean expected fire to come out of Michael’s mouth and turn Cas to ash, but the great Firebreather only looked at Dean and spoke, sounding extremely surprised.

“Please tell me your version of the story, Captain,” he said slowly, hesitantly, as if he was… well, as if he was _scared_ of Castiel, which of course didn’t make any sense at all.

Dean glanced at Castiel and cleared his throat. He faced Michael again and took a breath before speaking. “I admit that I wasn’t heading to the Headquarters to answer the message, sir,” he admitted. “I didn’t know about it until I got there. I pretended to have answered it because General Mills looked like she had a lot going on at the moment and she really needed someone to answer the message. I apologise for my impulsiveness.”

Michael eyed him. “So, why did you go there in the first place, Captain?”

No, Dean wouldn’t back down now. “I was going to ask General Mills about the situation of the hostages, sir,” he said.

Michael blinked and stared at Dean for a moment. “That’s not your business, Captain,” he said and Dean felt anger rise inside him.

“With all due respect, sir, why shouldn’t it be?” he asked. “True, the prisoners were taken before I joined the regiment, but we’ve all been worried about them. We’re worried because there are no actions taken that we know of to retrieve them. We know nothing about what’s happened to them, and I was wondering whether there were moves made to get them back, and if there are, what are they. Or if there aren’t any, maybe there should be?”

“Is this really the reason why you went to see General Mills?” insisted Michael.

“Yessir.”

“And what answer did she give, if I may ask?”

Dean sighed, defeated. “None, sir,” he said and tried to ignore Michael’s snort. Didn’t he care about the hostages at all? “She did direct me to Second Lieutenant Masters, though,” he continued, “probably because she says she has information about the hostages.”

Michael looked at her and she raised her eyebrows. She looked around at the rest of the aviators and then back at Michael. “Oh, thank the Gods,” she said, “I actually thought for a moment that you had forgotten about me.”

“I don’t trust this woman,” said Michael. “Why should we listen to her?”

Benny took a couple of steps forward. “Permission to speak, sir?”

Michael hesitated. “Granted, Captain Lafitte.”

“Sir, I think we _should_ listen to her,” Benny said. “If General Mills thinks she’s got something worth hearing to say, who are we to judge before we even give it a shot?”

“Lies, Captain,” said Michael. “That’s what we’re about to hear. Why would an Elavorni –“

“Sir, with all due respect, you don’t even know that,” spoke Jo, coming next to Benny. “She might have something useful to say. If not, we can send her back to General Mills to –“

“Don’t ever interrupt me again, Officer,” snapped Michael, “or there _will_ be consequences. She just wants to spy on us; that’s as clear as the sun is bright. She has nothing to say about the hostages that we don’t know already.”

“And what might that be, sir?” asked Castiel calmly. “Because if you do know some information about the hostages, nobody has shared it with us and all we do is worry while we are not allowed to do a thing. I can’t help but form the impression that you do not wish us to know what’s happening.”

“There’s no reason for you to know anything, Captain,” Michael insisted, and Dean wasn’t sure, but did the Firebreather look uncomfortable?

“Why is that?” asked Anna coldly. “Why would we not need to know? If I may, you lost persons you cared about too, sir, if I might remind you. Zachariah, Uriel, Raphael? They’re between the hostages, or dead, for all we know, and they were all right under you. What about your rider, sir? Was he lost in vain, defending an army that we do nothing to protect?”

Dean had never seen Michael look this small, and he didn’t even understand why this was happening. Michael was clearly losing an argument that he had no hope of winning no matter what, and yet he was standing his ground desperately. What for? When the enemy takes some of your people, you do everything you can to get them back. Why was that such an issue?

“Look,” started Michael and Dean felt Castiel’s irritation inside his head, “as long as we don’t have direct orders from the Headquarters –“

“Why have we been waiting orders for so long, then?” asked Chuck, surprising everyone, even Metatron, who looked away. “It’s been _months_ , sir. We don’t even know if they’re alive or dead.”

“That’s why we can’t act now, they –“

“Do you want names, sir?” asked Anna, more harshly than Dean had ever heard her speak. “Bill Harvelle. Lisa Braeden. Jessica Moore. Hester. Linda Tran.” Her voice trembled. “Inias. Do you need more? There _are_ more. How long do we have to wait to do something?”

“If nothing else,” said Balthazar, “what the hell have we been training for if not for battle?”

Crowley snorted from next to him. “We can’t go into battle like this, you looney,” he said. “Can’t you see us? We can’t even agree with _ourselves!_ I’ve been talking about a sneaking plan for months, but does anyone ever listen to me?”

“Now look here –“

“You’ll get all killed, you idiots!”

“But we’re ready, we have been since –“

“Calm the fuck down before I –“

Voices became a blur around Dean, and he looked at Castiel desperately. The dragon was squinting, his lips a thin line. His anger was radiating off of him. Dean noticed that Meg and Lilith had approached and stood behind Castiel, as if they expected him to protect them from the shouting. Meg looked at Dean and shook her head in disappointment.

“Boy, do you need my help,” she commented. “If I knew this was the army I was going to help, I’d have stayed in Elavorn where there’s a chance. You guys look like a bunch of hopeless losers, you know that?”

Now, Dean didn’t usually answer well to sarcastic insults. He usually followed the quickest and most certain way of swearing and counter-sarcastic-insulting. Sometimes he would punch people in the face, or smash a bottle on their heads. If the insult was one of those very specific displays of affections between mostly very best friends, he would answer by smiling fondly and throwing back another insult and the world would be back in place.

When a fight was on, with yelling and beating each other up and generally doing whatever harm was possible to self and others with the sole purpose of doing it and laughing about it afterwards, Dean was also really good in taking part in it. He had a killer punch and was a mastermind in handling weapons and/or making some impromptu ones on the spot. He’d yell until his throat was sore and he’d kick everyone’s ass just for the laughs, and he’d respect the hell out of anyone who beat him.

Castiel, on the other hand, was nothing like that. He didn’t fight unless he was in the arena and he was forced to do so. He was good in a fight and in practising his moves only because it was his job to be good at it. He didn’t like violence and he let insults pass by him like water over a rock. He was quiet and he apologised if he ever happened to annoy someone. He didn’t like being the centre of attention, and he did his best to stay somewhere in the back of the line where nobody noticed him.

See now, that’s why when Castiel flapped his wings angrily, landed heavily between the dragons and the aviators and let out a roar so deep and high-pitched at once, one that went on for almost half a minute and made the Earth rumble and deafened aviators and dragons alike for the next few minutes, and made the air itself look like it rippled, well, that’s why Dean’s mouth dried and the blood left his face even more than everyone else’s.

Some things just weren’t natural.

Dean kept staring at Castiel long after the roar was over – well, in his defence, everyone else did the same. Cas was standing still, his scales dull under the clouds of the November sky, and he looked as if he was radiating raw power, as if he was bigger somehow, as if a trembling halo of pale energy glowed around his head. He whipped his tail and looked around angrily.

“When a supposed enemy wants to free our own more than we do,” he growled, “then it’s high time we realised this army is rotten to the core.”

He waited, but got no answer. Dean could still hear the buzzing inside his ears.

“If there isn’t anyone else willing to hear this woman out,” Cas continued, “then I will.”

He looked at Meg and nodded encouragingly for her to follow him, then turned his back to the rest of the dragons and aviators alike and walked towards the dome, calmly, confidently, in a way that Dean had never seen before. He eyed Meg, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Man, if he had been a guy instead of a dragon, I would be so turned on right now,” she commented before she followed him with Lilith on her heels.

Dean tried not to think why he started imagining Meg’s head under the bottle he was breaking during the imaginary fight in his head.

* * *

 

It turned out that Michael wouldn’t let Castiel interrogate Meg on his own. Dean guessed it wasn’t so much a matter of hearing Meg out, as it was a matter of showing who still had the power. He did hold the hearing in the dome, though, and everyone was present during the hearing, dragons and aviators alike. Abaddon and Balthazar kept Lilith between them to make sure she wouldn’t try anything, as Bela and Benny stood on either side of Meg as she spoke. The rest of the regiment was standing in a circle around Meg, Lilith, their guards and Michael. Dean noticed Michael had put him and Cas right behind Lilith and her guards, probably because he didn’t want Cas to get any ideas on who was in charge. Every now and then, Michael did glance at Cas, and Dean couldn’t blame him.

Dean really couldn’t say what had gotten into Cas. He had never seen him like that before. In the past, Cas had reassured Dean over and over that his revolutionary days were behind him, that he wasn’t going to try and change things anymore, neither for them personally nor for anyone else. And yet he had challenged Michael openly, and in such a way that it could be considered mutiny way too easily. When Dean gently reached for Cas’ mind, he only found confusion. So he decided to just pay attention to the hearing and deal with everything else afterwards.

Meg spoke for a long time, answering every question patiently. She said that she was tired of the battles that had been going on since forever, and that she couldn’t stand watching her people getting killed, and killing enemies herself to prevent losing her own. She said she’d spoken to her supervisors several times to negotiate peace and that she’d even formed a small community of people to talk to their leader and talk to them about the hostages they’d been keeping for so many months. She said that her allies got scared when the leader learnt about them and threatened to have them all executed for treason, and that she was the only one who actually still tried to get the job done. She was beaten and hunted, and she decided to give it a shot with the opposite side, in case they were more sensible.

She informed them that the hostages were being kept in an old tomb in the desert of Kelmerr, not a week’s flight from the capital. Some of the hostages were alive, a few had died and a couple had joined the other side to save their lives, or to help end the war. Dean thought it was disturbing how many people were willing to give up all they believed in just for the war to end. It had been raging for way too long.

Meg gave them names. She said the army was also led by a dragon, a Royal named Lucifer; she said he hadn’t made a move because he was looking for a worthy rider, as his previous one had been lost. Most of the army was commanded by dragons, with the humans mostly treated as a necessary nuisance. She said Azazel and Alastair, a Devil’s Seed and a Frostling, respectively, were in charge of Lucifer’s personal guard, and swapped between guarding the prisoners and advising Lucifer. Meg didn’t know the names of the hostages who had joined the other side, but she recalled a dark red Striker and a big white Eastern, whom the regiment recognised as Raphael and Zachariah. Apparently, an olive Emeray – whom the regiment said had to be Uriel – had tried to be the third to join the others, but his own team had attacked and killed him inside their cell. After that, they were put in different dungeons. Raphael’s and Zachariah’s riders were killed fighting their own dragons, and Uriel’s was executed by the Elavorni, even though he wanted to join them; he was useless without a dragon, they said.

Dean could only listen as Meg listed the rest of the hostages and as the regiment gave names to the vague descriptions, making this whole thing extremely real; a flightless blonde girl whom Lucifer had kept alive because he was considering as a rider – Jessica Moore, the regiment said. A deep blue Mergon – Hester. A young boy who had resisted Lucifer for long and who was given the benefit of the doubt – Adam Milligan. A middle-aged woman and her dragon, a Striker – Linda Tran and Rachel. At that point, Jo had to go hug Kevin, who let out a sob, hearing news from his mother for the first time in months. Finally, two children, as well as a young brunette pilot and her dragon, a small Emeray the colour of peanuts. Several children were taken that day and it was devastating to know that only two were still alive, and there was no way to know which boy and which girl they were; but the other two sounded like Major Lisa Braeden and Inias. It was the first time Dean had seen a dragon cry; Anna couldn’t hold back her tears at that, and Dean wondered what kind of a relationship she had had with Inias; he realised then that he had never thought about _those_ kind of relationships when it came to dragons, and wondered why he felt a hint of jealousy at the thought of Cas finding someone special, a dragon lady who would make him some nice shiny eggs and whom Dean would have to accept no matter what.

Okay, _focus_. This wasn’t the time to think about dragon mating, for crying out loud. It was the first time ever since Dean had joined the aviators that something was actually _happening_. They finally had information. And some of the hostages, at least, were well-trained. If that Lisa woman was a freaking major, then –

Wait a second. Lisa Braeden? Dean almost choked on thin air. He _knew_ her. That time, some years ago, when he’d had a one-night-stand with an aviator. He was pretty sure that had been her name. How many brunette aviators named Lisa were there? And the surname did sound a bit familiar. Damn, he had liked that woman. But she was still alive. A ray of hope crept its way into Dean’s heart. Well, who knew, maybe if everything went well, Cas would be the one to accept Dean’s lady friend first, and…

Damn it, what was wrong with him? It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d had some. …Okay, that was a lie, it _had_ been a long time, but his right hand was good enough until something else came up, and the girls in the capital were cheaper than he’d have thought – the men, too, but he wasn’t going to do that, never again; his rebellious youth was behind him, and if sometimes he looked at the very, very handsome man whores, it was only out of curiosity. Besides, he didn’t want that anymore; he was almost twenty-nine now, he couldn’t still only care about random sex and not about a proper relationship. Lisa could be what he’d always wanted, since… well, if he helped save her, maybe she would remember him and things would work out just –

“Yea or nay, Captain Winchester?”

Dean blinked and looked around. Cas was staring at him meaningfully; the others just stared. Everyone besides Michael, Gordon, Samandriel and Metatron had their hands raised, even Cas. Meg and Lilith’s were down, but Dean guessed they weren’t taking part in this. He looked at Michael.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quickly, “I’m afraid I got distracted for a second. Can you repeat the question?”

Dean was sure that his cheeks couldn’t have been much lighter than Michael’s scales as the Firebreather repeated: “All in favour of an immediate operation to rescue the hostages, at risk of our action being considered a rebellion against the Crown, and under full knowledge that we are acting against orders and can be prosecuted for the crime of treason, say yea.”

Dean felt a flutter inside his chest. “Yea,” he said, and raised a hand with the others.

“Everyone in favour of Meg Masters and Lilith officially joining the Auster regiment, say yea.”

To Dean’s surprise, only he and Kevin put their hands down. Samandriel tried to raise his own, but a look from Gordon stopped him. Meg smiled, and it didn’t look as much like a smirk as the previous times.

Michael sighed. “Sixteen versus four, and fourteen versus six. I believe the decisions are final,” he announced, and there was an excited murmur around the dome. “Second Lieutenant Masters, you are hereby named Flying Officer, and you will be given a uniform. Lilith will take her place in the dome, and you both will be expected to fight alongside us from now on, starting tomorrow. You will come along on the mission for the hostages’ rescue and you will guide us to the right place. If you betray us, both of you will face a penalty of torture and death. Is that understood?”

“Yessir,” said both Meg and Lilith at the same time, and Dean wasn’t really surprised at the meek sound of Lilith’s voice, but he still didn’t like it. He looked at Cas as the crowd scattered.

“Seems it’s not just you and me against the world, huh?” he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

Cas didn’t smile. “We’ll see,” he said.

Dean helped him out of his harness silently, his mind so tired of all the new information and situations that it purposefully remained blank.

He didn’t even know what he was hoping for.

* * *

 

The preparations took all evening. It was the first time in a long time the regiment was going to see any battle, and there were even some members who had never seen one; Dean might have been an experienced soldier in sea-based battles, but he knew about airborne fighting only in theory. Gordon and especially Samandriel were also completely new to this, as were Jo and Kevin, though their dragons had taken other riders into battle before. Charlie, Garth, Pamela and Becky were to stay behind as usual, and tell General Mills of what had happened only if the rest of the regiment didn’t return in fifteen days. Chuck and Metatron were to stay with them. It wasn’t so much that they weren’t capable of battle, as that they needed to take care of the village, and that Metatron, as a water dragon, could only do so much in a desert environment. Chuck then told Dean he’d love to go to a desert environment with Metatron someday, and if he got to leave him there, even better, and Dean chuckled awkwardly, literally having no idea whether Chuck meant it or not.

Leather bags were strapped on the dragons’ harnesses, filled with weapons, armour, and supplies. Sacks of water, equipped with long tubes that went over the aviators’ shoulders, were also strapped on their backs, so that they wouldn’t have to stop and reach over in mid-air. Pieces of armour were strapped onto and checked for both the aviators and the dragons, and even though Dean thought Cas looked pretty badass with his underside, neck and head covered in protective armour, he hated the knowledge that he was throwing him into battle.

They didn’t sleep well that night; they were all too nervous. Dean hadn’t felt the excitement of battle for a while now, and he was surprised to see that he hadn’t missed it. He spent the night in the dome with Cas, curled against the dragon’s underside, with his wing over him like a blanket. He was taken aback at how different it felt from the last time he lay there, but of course, Cas had grown since then.

Dean found that he wasn’t the only one to stay in the dome when it was too late to talk to them; Anna was holding Jo like a stuffed toy under her arm, Benny had leaned against Balthazar’s back and fallen asleep there, and Meg had preferred to lie on Lilith’s back instead of her new bed.

In the middle of the night, just as Dean was starting to fall asleep, he felt Cas’ muscles move. He raised his head to look, and saw Samandriel crawling under Cas’ other wing. He half-smiled and went back to sleep.

The morning came and the preparations didn’t take long. Everyone grabbed as much food as they could, as quickly as possible, and they soon took off.

Michael was flying in the front, with Lilith and Meg flying right underneath him and just a couple dozen yards forward. Behind them came Anna with Jo, Samandriel with Gordon, and Castiel with Dean, and right behind them were Balthazar with Benny, Crowley with Kevin, and Abaddon with Bela. Gabriel was holding the rear on his own.

They flew over Tissantel Forest and kept going south. Very soon they flew so high that there were clouds beneath them, and Dean felt grateful for his attire; he was sure it was cold as hell up there, but he didn’t feel a thing. Sure, the leather armour was a bit tight – he’d never complain about a Navy captain’s coat if he ever got to wear one again – and his helmet did limit his peripheral vision, but he was doing fine so far.

 _Are you okay, buddy?_ Dean asked, reaching Cas’ mind. _Are you cold?_

 _I’m fine, Dean,_ Castiel answered effortlessly into his mind. Dean waited for something more, but it didn’t come. He decided to try again.

 _Cas?_ he asked, nudging Castiel’s mind gently.

_Yes, Dean?_

_I, uh… I wanna talk about yesterday._

_What about?_

_Well, about what you did. It was pretty awesome, I gotta say. But you caught me off guard. Me and everyone else, actually. Where did all that come from? I thought your revolutionary instincts were put aside._

To Dean’s discomfort, Cas didn’t answer at once. He slowed down a bit as to not bump into Michael and Dean was sure he heard him sigh.

 _I don’t know,_ he answered. _For a moment, I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t want to challenge Michael, Dean. That was never my intention,_ he said apologetically.

 _Well, not to be a bummer, buddy, but it did look that way,_ said Dean, trying to make his thoughts sound sympathetic. _What were you trying to do?_

 _I don’t know,_ Cas repeated _. I… lost it for a moment. There was something big inside of me and I couldn’t control it. Michael and his stubbornness were condemning our chances to end this war. Well, that’s what I thought at that moment. But I couldn’t stand by and let him do so._

Dean frowned. _But now you are satisfied with Michael’s decision to act_ , he tried to guess.

 _It wasn’t Michael’s decision,_ Cas pointed out. _He couldn’t do anything other than agree when everyone started speaking out against him. No, it was the regiment’s decision, and Michael is afraid of that. They’ve left him in charge for too long and now he’s losing control. Or –_

Cas’ thoughts stopped suddenly, and it seemed to Dean as if he’d suddenly gone deaf. He shook his head a couple of times, trying to get rid of the buzzing, until he felt normal again. Well, that wouldn’t work. He pursed his lips and poked at Cas’ mind.

_Cas, don’t make me insist, okay? Lemme in, goddammit. What are you thinkin’?_

Castiel’s mind opened up to him, slowly, hesitantly. _I’m not sure yet, he said, but since yesterday I’m thinking that there’s someone higher up the chain than Michael who’s giving the commands._

Dean rolled his eyes. _What, like General Mills? Big news._

_No. Higher than that._

_Higher than that there’s the Lords, the Council, and the King, Cas. And they ain’t got nothing to do with the military. Why would they want to give Michael orders?_

_I don’t know. I just think they want us to stay in place. Someone ordered Michael not to act on the hostage situation, which doesn’t make sense. Why would he be so hesitant to save his own? Even for revenge for his rider, don’t you think he should want to find them and fight the Elavorni that offended his precious army?_

_But that would mean that Michael has orders to let his own army grow weak_ , said Dean suspiciously _. Why would any of our own Lords, let alone the Council, want our army to lose the war?_ His eyes widened in sudden realisation. _Unless of course, you mean that Michael is getting his orders from someone on the other side._

 _I don’t want to believe that,_ Cas protested weakly _. But why would he not want to get back his own and strengthen his army if he really wanted to win the war?_

_Tell you what, Cas, I really liked it five minutes ago when my doubts for this army were limited to whether we were able to win this damn battle or not. This shit goes way too deep for my taste._

_I know what you mean,_ said Cas grimly _. But I really want to know what’s going on. I don’t like feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game._

Dean sighed _. Yeah, I feel ya._

They didn’t talk after that, and Dean tried not to think about the chance that this weird-ass dragon telepathy thing he and Cas had got going on was a universal ability, making Michael able to hear everything. Dying in the jaws of a huge Firebreather, Dean thought, wasn’t nearly as cool a death as it sounded.

* * *

 

During the next few days, Dean tried to watch Michael’s behaviour, notice anything that might not seem right. He was disappointed. Michael was the same as ever, strict and distant, and Dean just couldn’t think of anyone able to control his actions. General Mills didn’t look like the kind of person who would be a part of this scam – assuming Cas was right, of course – but then again, anyone could be pretending to be someone they were not. And of course, it wasn’t like Dean and Cas could freely talk to the others about their concerns; if anyone told their command, their asses would be on the line.

Not that there was much time for spying on Michael, of course. The days were spent on the dragons’ backs, stopping only every three hours for thirty minutes or so for the dragons to stretch their aching muscles and for everyone to attend to any possible natural needs. They always had to find the most remote places so that they wouldn’t attract any attention, and they had to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t an easy task with so many of them, and Dean wondered how the hell an aviator army could ever manage a surprise attack.

Meg led them quickly enough, and on the night of the fifth day, when they landed by a small oasis just at the beginning of the desert, she said they would be there by morning. They didn’t light a fire that night, but they all gathered together and talked about their plan, eating and drinking lightly. Meg assured them that there would be no more than a couple of guards, but Azazel and Alastair presented enough of a challenge to be dangerous for all nine of them, and she warned them that both dragons were cunning and manipulative, and they were bound to try and recruit the regiment, if violence wasn’t enough.

Michael ordered Gabriel and Abaddon to be the vanguard in the morning, since they were the most able to attack an opponent by spitting deadly fluids at them; a combination of actual lava, poisonous gas, sun-hot fire and burning acid was bound to at least surprise the guards. When Lilith protested that she was just as able to double attack with burning ash and poison, Michael said coldly that he wouldn’t have her at the front of the line, but in the end allowed her to fly right behind Gabriel and Abaddon. Crowley, Anna and Balthazar were to fly behind her, and Michael said he would hold the rear on his own. Castiel and Samandriel were to go get the prisoners while the others would keep the guards busy.

“What shit is this?” snapped Gordon. “I’m just as able to hold my ground as you are!”

“You might be, but Samandriel is too young,” said Michael, not looking particularly annoyed. “He can’t breathe gas yet, so he’s pretty much useless in an offence.”

“I have learnt the physical attacks,” Samandriel protested.

“That’s why you have come on this mission, Lieutenant,” said Michael, “but you are not fit for battle. Castiel will take care of you.”

“Sir,” said Castiel, “may I remind you that the physical attacks are all I can do as well? Will I be enough protection for Samandriel?”

“You’d better be, Captain,” answered Michael calmly, “or there will be consequences. Now, are we clear about the positions?”

“What if it’s a trap, sir?” asked Gordon angrily. “What if Officer Masters is lying and there are a dozen enemies inside the tomb waiting for someone new to inhabit it? If we are so _weak_ , maybe we shouldn’t be the ones to do this job!”

“If that’s the case, Lieutenant, then I’m happy you know the _physical attacks,_ ” said Michael coldly. Gordon didn’t answer, which Dean thought was the best thing for him to do; he just walked away.

The talk went on for a little while, and Dean and Cas took the first watch after the planning was over. They tried to avoid Gordon, if they could; his mood wasn’t the best at the moment. Dean had left his metal flask in his sack on Cas’ harness, which was currently laying on the ground. He took it out and drank; the whiskey was Ellen’s best, and he was happy to have taken some with him, even though it tasted bitter now. Damn it. The upcoming battle really had ruined his mood.

The sand under his feet was cold and the sky above them clear, and Dean used his hands as a pillow under his head as he leaned on Cas’ side and looked at the stars. He didn’t feel very well; maybe it was the inevitable anxiety that came along with the calm before the storm, or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, he welcomed Cas’ voice inside his head; he desperately needed a distraction.

_Dean?_

“Mmm?”

_Are you nervous about tomorrow?_

Dean sighed. _Yeah, I guess. I’ve been in battle before, but never like this._

_Did you become a captain by winning many battles?_

_No, Cas. I became a captain by loving my ship and being loyal to my crew, and by taking the right decisions._

_Why do I deserve to be called a captain, then?_

_I guess it’s because you and I are considered equal, so you have the same rank as I do,_ Dean suggested. He had never actually asked anyone.

_Michael doesn’t think we’re equal._

_Of course he does, Cas. He’s a dragon. He knows I’m no better than you._

_I mean that he thinks I’m better than you._

_Oh._

_He doesn’t count us as couples anymore; he only mentions the dragons’ names when he does the planning. I don’t like this._

_…Because it’s exactly like what’s Lucifer doing with the Elavorni,_ Dean realised. Cas didn’t answer, and Dean sighed. He let his eyes wander the sky and his hand reached for the amulet on his neck.

 _Hey,_ he said. _Look up._

Castiel obeyed. _It’s just the stars._

_What’s “just” about the stars? There, look at those ones up north. D’ya see them?_

_Which ones?_

_The ones down there that make this weird-ass shape like a ruined question mark._

_Yes._

_Can you see them?_

_Yes. I don’t recall seeing that shape when we were in Elaurans._

_Well, these ones were my favourite as a kid. They kinda still are._

_Why?_

_They’re the constellation of the dragon._

Dean felt Cas’ surprise in his head. _Really?_

 _Of course. They might look nothing like a dragon, of course, but I like ’em. They’re way down in the sky, you see, and whenever you’re in the big city with the lights and the fires and all, it’s not easy to see them, but you just know they’re there. And because they’re so low in the sky, the weather needs to be really good to spot them. I used to look for them on the_ Impala _. When I see them, I take it for a good sign._

_So you think we’re gonna make it tomorrow?_

_I know so._

_Why?_

_Because I haven’t said my goodbyes to Sammy, and I’m not leaving this fucking world without doing that first. And because the dragon up there says so._

Dean felt Cas’ little smile in the air.

 _What kind of dragon is it?_ Cas asked after a pause and Dean blinked.

_I don’t know. Why are you asking?_

_I’m just wondering if it was an Angel ._

_I’m sorry, Cas, I really don’t know the story behind it._

_Is there an angel constellation?_

Dean smiled fondly, without really knowing why. _Are you trying to find yourself up there or are you suddenly turning religious?_

 _I don’t think anything like me is up there,_ said Cas sadly. _But for the past few weeks I’ve been wondering what I have in common with angels to be called that. Maybe if there was such a story in the stars, I’d find it. Now I don’t know if I’ll get my chance._

Dean took a deep breath. _Tell you what_ , he said _. I’ll make you a deal. You’re gonna find your angel side as soon as we go back, and I’m gonna find out what the story of the dragon is. Agreed?_

Castiel smiled. _Yes, I agree._

 _Don’t die on me, buddy,_ said Dean, and he felt like he was choking even though there was no voice coming out of his mouth. The wing around him hugged him a little tighter.

_I’ll always be here, Dean._

It was the first time in Dean’s life that anyone spoke those words and Dean was actually willing to believe them.

* * *

 

The flight to the tomb where Meg said the prisoners were held wasn’t that long, but it was tedious. Dean wasn’t used to the southern sun, and the desert didn’t make it any easier. They had no cover to hide them from the Elavorni, so basically all they did was keep flying and hope for the best.

Dean felt like he was boiling inside his armour and helmet. Occasionally, he felt Cas’ soothing voice inside his head, but he was so dizzy he doubted he would manage to stay on Cas’ back for long. He did try to stay focused, though; he couldn’t lose this battle. He wouldn’t go like this. Not because of the damn sun, of all things.

Well, it wasn’t just the sun. He had a really bad feeling turning his stomach into a knot and poisoning his mouth with bitterness. Or maybe it wasn’t even a feeling. He was scared, and it wasn’t the battle. He wondered if that was what Cas was feeling, but when he tried to ask him, Cas didn’t answer, and Dean wasn’t even sure whether he’d managed to make his mind’s voice reach Cas’.

It didn’t matter. He would win the battle.

Soon enough, they saw a couple dozen angular shapes rising from the sand. Dean vaguely remembered reading about pyramids when he was a kid, great tombs of arrogant kings. He was aware of Meg yelling that the pyramid with the hostages was the second one to the left. Dean tried to remember what his position was, but Cas was already on top of it. He watched Cas gesture to Samandriel to hide right above Crowley and Michael, so that they weren’t seen easily from below.

Dean’s head was throbbing, but he managed to see two dragons, one huge and black and one slightly smaller and white, emerge from behind two of the tombs. He heard a voice, probably Michael’s, commanding Lilith to spit her ash to create the clouds the sky lacked. She obeyed, and soon the air before them was thick and grey and hot, and that did nothing good for Dean’s condition. As the black and the white dragons passed through the ash cloud and Cas and Samandriel did the same to get to the other side, Dean thought he heard Cas’ voice inside his head, but he wasn’t sure.

As Cas flew closer to the white, blinding sand, Dean had the strange feeling that he was going to fall, for the first time ever since he had first flown with Cas. Consciously, he knew he wasn’t going to, even if he was knocked out; he was strapped on carefully and Cas would do anything humanly – um, dragonly? – possible to keep Dean safe. Dean just didn’t trust himself at that point. He squinted at the sun’s reflection on the sand and tried to focus on the big, dark, angular shapes of the tombs just ahead. The entrances were big enough, but only the one on the pyramid Meg had pointed at looked big enough for a dragon to fit in. Dean hoped the passages and corridors inside it would be just as big. He guessed he would find out pretty soon.

He grabbed the straps of Cas’ harness tight as Cas dived and passed through the entrance without a sound, his wings folding gracefully on his back just a moment after he’d gotten in, his feet landing gently, only the tip of his tail lightly brushing the stones at the entrance as he passed by it. Samandriel followed right after him, not as gracefully, but just as quietly. Dean realised, now that they were in a confined space and the two dragons were standing side by side, on Cas’ back he was a good five feet above Gordon on Samandriel’s back. Gordon didn’t look pleased, but, of course, that might have something to do with the dark, unknown space they were in, and the probability of fire-breathing enemies coming at them any time now.

Dean took off his goggles and helmet and looked around. There was only one torch lighting the place, and what was visible wasn’t pleasant. The room they were in was huge, easily having enough free space for a couple more dragons as big as Castiel, and the roof was so tall that Dean could barely see it. There was one door in each of the four walls; one was the entrance, and the others continued into dark corridors. The walls were decorated with old, even ancient paintings, that were kind of primitive, vividly coloured, and depicted scenes of extreme violence.

“It’s the story of the king who died and was buried here,” whispered Samandriel, as if he had heard Dean’s thoughts, and his voice echoed as a hiss around the walls. The torch’s light trembled. Even that sound and change of light made Dean’s head feel like it was full of needles.

“Well, I hope I’ll be able to return as a tourist one day,” said Dean quietly. “Which way do we go?”

“Over here,” whispered Cas, turning his head to the right.

“How do _you_ know?” asked Gordon, irritated.

“I just do. I can smell them, I think. Follow me,” Cas said, and walked carefully into the corridor. It was wide enough, but Dean believed that if they needed to turn around, they might have a problem. At least the corridor was high enough, but Dean was afraid that if Cas had to make a sharp turn, they’d either be entirely trapped or they’d have to break the walls, and he thought the latter was more probable. He wondered for a moment if this indeed was a trap, but tried to shake it off. It was just his anxiety and the unease of being in such a closed space. He wished for a moment that Cas would go back to being his old, curious, rebel self and turn into a human again.

The corridor was getting darker and darker. The place smelt of dust and stuffiness and oil and burnt wood, and – though Dean didn’t like to think about it – death. The air was so dry it felt like sandpaper. The darkness soon swallowed them – and, thankfully, the horrid pictures around them too.

“Um, Cas?” Dean whispered. “Now would be a good time to learn how to spit fire or something.”

“Don’t worry, the next torch is close enough. I can see it,” said Cas, and Dean decided to not ask any details about dragon night vision. He strained to pick up Samandriel’s footsteps behind him, and heard the slight brushing of the stones under the dragon’s feet. Good. His heart might have been racing inside his chest, but everything so far was going well.

Just as Cas had said, the next torch appeared soon enough. Cas took several turns, thinking a bit before each one, sniffing the air, closing his eyes and trying to listen. As they got deeper and deeper inside the pyramid, Dean wondered how the hell they would find their way back. He had no idea how long they’d been in there. The others could have all died out there, or they could have –

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. He was already weak. He couldn’t do it.

As they walked further, Dean started to think that he could smell the others too. There was a chance he was just catching stuff from Castiel’s nose, but he could swear something had changed in the wind.

Then, just out of nowhere, he heard a voice. He couldn’t tell what it was saying, but it was definitely a voice. And it was coming from –

“There,” murmured Castiel, and he ran forward. Samandriel followed, and they started passing through the corridors so quickly that Dean had to close his eyes not to aggravate the throbbing of his head. After a couple of minutes, Dean felt the movement slow down and the bouncing world eventually stopped. He dared to open his eyes. They were standing at the end of a corridor, with a huge open gate in front of them. Cas took a step forward and entered.

It has the biggest room Dean had ever seen in his life, looking more like a royal hall than anything else. The walls were extremely high, and Dean could swear that he could fit three Auster regiments in there. The walls were covered in the same kind of paintings, only these ones were beautiful, depicting everyday scenes of love and games and watching dragons fly. The details were inked with gold and the spots between the couple dozen torches on the walls were decorated with once-beautiful dried flowers. In the middle was a stone table, Dean thought, until he realised that a figure was carved on it and that it was really a… what did they call it? It wasn’t actually called a coffin, but that’s what it was, the only difference being that it was a coffin for Southern royalty. All around the room were urns; Dean remembered Sam’s voice telling him the morbid details of their containing the Southern royalty’s favourite objects while alive, like toys and jewellery, or even mummified pets and – Gods forbid – organs.

Dean couldn’t care less about the gold and the dead king’s severed parts, because all over the room there was something very, very much alive.

The rest of Auster Regiment.

There they were. All of them.

Dean looked around at the astonished faces staring back at him. He didn’t recognise anyone and realised they didn’t recognise him either; to them, he might be just another enemy. What the hell was wrong with Michael’s plan? Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier?

Then a woman spoke.

“Gordon?” she said hesitantly, in a hoarse voice. Oh, yeah. Gordon was here too. The woman got up weakly and hobbled towards Gordon, hugging him, touching him as if she couldn’t believe he was there, whispering, “Thank the Gods, thank the Gods,” while the rest murmured in excitement and concern, as if they were worried all this was an illusion.

“Thank your luck, sweetheart,” said Gordon. “We’re here to save you.”

“You’ve got a dragon,” said a young boy in disbelief, with a look on his face as if he couldn’t decide what to say first.

“Yeah, I finally do,” huffed Gordon. “Now hurry up.”

“Who’s this?” said the woman who had spoken first, letting go of Gordon and pointing at Dean. “You didn’t sign up with _them_ , did you, Gordon?”

“I’m Captain Dean Winchester, ma’am, and this is Castiel,” said Dean before Gordon could speak. “I joined Auster regiment a few months back. We’ve come to take you away from here.” He took a look around, counting people; their number was the same as Meg had said. He looked at the woman again, then everyone else, and took in her characteristics. “You don’t happen to be Linda Tran, do you?”

“Yes,” she said, and then looked worried. “Why? Do I need to know something? How’s my Kevin?”

“He’s fine, no need to worry,” said Cas reassuringly. “We need to get out of here, now. Is anyone injured or needing help?”

“Yes,” cried a young woman from the side of a deep blue dragon; a wingless one, Dean noticed. The woman was blonde, about Sam’s age, and she was clinging on the dragon as best she could. “Hester here is a water creature,” she explained. “She’s been in the desert for months. We’ve been giving her most of our water, but she won’t last long, and she can’t fly away. She can barely even fight on land in her condition. Please, she needs to be carried. Don’t you dare leave her here.”

“We won’t leave her,” Castiel reassured the girl quickly. Dean caught Gordon opening his mouth and closing it quickly. “We have ropes, and we’ll need clothes and fabrics to make a hammock to carry her between us. She’ll be fine, I promise. Everyone get to work before your captors find us.”

Dean could only watch and help out as the hostages moved about, following Cas’ orders. He had no idea when Cas had become the leader, but he knew his dragon was doing a great job anyway. The hostages, miserable as they were, having spent an awful lot of time within a tomb, became lively and ready to work as soon as there were orders to follow. Dean counted them again: three women, one young man, two children, and three dragons. They were all skinny and weak and dusty and smelt horrible, but they got to work very quickly and made a huge hammock for Hester in a very short amount of time. Dean spotted a brunette around his age; Lisa, he remembered, and yeah, she was the one. She didn’t seem to recognise him and a part of him felt a bit hurt, but now wasn’t the time.

As the young man approached Castiel to tie one side of the hammock to his harness, Dean came closer to help out with the straps he knew as well as the back of his hand. The boy smiled at him thankfully.

“What’s your name, kid?” asked Dean.

“Officer Adam Milligan, sir,” the boy said. He hesitated, biting his lip. “To be honest, I was starting to lose hope, sir. I can barely believe this is happening.”

“Yeah, I can barely believe it too, to be honest.”

“If I may ask, sir, what took you so long?”

Dean didn’t know what to answer. “I’m not the one making the decisions, kid,” he said quietly, tying up a knot and putting all his focus into not looking Adam in the eye.

“We were here for months,” Adam said, as if he were talking to himself. Maybe he was, after all that time in here. “Many of us died, you know, trying to fight off the guards. Others died while trying to find their way inside this damn labyrinth. Others fatally injured themselves trying to knock these walls down. The guards only came once a day to get us food and water and pick up the dead bodies. We could lose our way getting back from taking a shit in the next room. I don’t even know how much time has passed. If you tell me one month or ten years, I’ll believe it.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, it’s been eight months, kid,” he muttered. Adam just nodded slowly.

“I see,” he said. “Is there a chance –“

A loud crash from outside the hall brought dust down from the walls and the ceiling, and made the torches tremble. Dean looked around frantically. A loud screech made him and the rest of the humans scream and clutch their ears.

“It’s a Striker!” Lisa cried out, and she jumped on her dragon’s back clumsily. “They know we’re escaping!”

“We’ve got a Striker of our own, you cowards!” yelled Gordon, pointing at the skinny black dragon cowering behind Lisa’s Inias.

“Rachel is too weak to fight, you asshole,” shouted Linda Tran as she got on the dragon’s back, forgetting every affection she had shown for Gordon before. “We need to escape, quickly!”

“But how –“

“Didn’t you think of that when you came in here?” asked one of the kids, the boy, as the girl helped him climb in front of Lisa and then followed him.

“Well –“

Gordon was interrupted as the entrance to the hall was shattered from a blinding blast. Everyone covered their heads and eyes as smoke and debris flew around. The melting stones hissed as a big, black Striker came in, growling.

“More of us are coming,” it hissed. “You’re going nowhere.”

“Sure,” said Samandriel, and to Dean’s and especially Gordon’s surprise, he opened his mouth and breathed an astonishing amount of sizzling gas right at the Striker’s face. The black dragon shrieked, burning and blinded, and it ran into the wall, growling in the general direction of Samandriel, trying to get up on its feet again.

“Quick!” yelled Samandriel, and tried to get past the Striker to the corridor, but the fallen dragon, coughing, spread its wings, blocking the exit.

Dean saw Castiel coughing as well, and he realised he was trying to mimic Samandriel’s attack. A selfish part of him was happy Cas didn’t manage it; he thought he was going to die if he breathed anything else that wasn’t fresh air.

“Cas, no,” he whispered weakly, his lungs wheezing around the gas. “Just be yourself, okay?”

Castiel looked at him as the Striker stood up, still blocking the exit. Then Dean saw his dragon’s eyes widen.

“Hold on tight,” Cas said, and before Dean could say anything, Cas let out a chilling roar, stunning the Striker, then whipped his tail, cutting a gaping wound across the other dragon’s underside as it shrieked in pain, and finally soared towards the ceiling. Dean felt the tug of the hammock under them and then the pull disappeared as the hammock either broke or the rest of the dragons followed, supporting it.

“Cas, no!” Dean tried to yell, but it was too late.

Cas made a sharp turn and his tail crashed through the ceiling, breaking it. The hammock wasn’t attached to his harness anymore. Accelerating, he hit another one, and then another one, and he was still going when Dean finally felt something in his nostrils that wasn’t dust and the smell of death, and there was sun on his skin, and there was the flapping of the wings of so many dragons around him and the screeches of others from below and above, and it was just too much to handle.

He blacked out before he had time to say anything else.


	11. Break

Dean’s head was a mess of darkness and swirling images and distant sounds. He knew he was still on Castiel’s back, and he could hear the sound of wings beating against the wind, and at some point he felt a great pressure on his right leg, or maybe it was his left leg, and he felt multiple snaps against it and then the wind was pressing against his entire body. He realised he was falling, and the small part of him that was still aware of his surroundings was terrified. Another small part was wondering why the rest of him wasn’t freaking out and why the hell wasn’t he fully conscious. The last thing he remembered was hearing a distant screaming and the sun blinding him, and then darkness surrounded him completely.

When he woke, he had the impression that he should still be on Cas’ back. He didn’t feel like any time had passed at all. He realised his world was still dark, but he noticed a few bright spots in it. Oh. Stars. It was night-time. Or there was a light at the end of more than one tunnel and he got to choose where to go. Well, that wasn’t fun. He didn’t know where each of them led.

He groaned as he tried to feel other parts of his body besides his eyeballs. He really did feel the inside of his ears when a great shuffling sound fame from his right and he heard someone calling out his name in a deep, hoarse voice. He realised it must have been Cas and he wondered when the hell did the dragon start sounding so much like an adult. Maybe he had for a while and Dean hadn’t noticed. Dean tried to call him, but his vocal chords didn’t seem to be very willing to join his efforts. He managed to swallow and wet his throat.

“Dean?” Cas pleaded. “Dean, please, talk to me.”

“It’s no use, feather boy. He needs a proper healer, not dragon hoodoo.”

“Shut up, Gordon,” echoed a woman’s voice. Jo, maybe? Dean wasn’t sure. He didn’t have enough energy to look.

He thought he was starting to get back the feeling of his fingers and wondered if he was always so heavy.

“Cas?” he managed to whisper.

“Dean! Speak to me.”

“What the fuck is happening to me?”

“We think that you were poisoned,” said Cas flatly. Huh. No sugar-coating whatsoever. Then again, poisoning explained a lot. And raised a ton of other questions. Naturally.

“When?” was the only thing Dean thought of.

“We don’t know. You were spitting up foam while unconscious. We gave you some medicine according to what Anna thought would help you, but what you need to do is vomit to get it out of you, and we couldn’t make you when you weren’t awake, so can you please…”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think I’ll have to try hard, big guy.”

Dean felt Cas’ arm around him and slowly got up. He was sweating and barely able to stand, but he somehow managed. It wasn’t difficult for him to throw up behind some bushes, as his stomach was so upset that he could feel its insides boiling. He gladly accepted the flask of water Cas offered him and he drank greedily, desperate to get the bitterness off his mouth.

He looked around him. They were out in the open, camped in an oasis not far from the end of the desert. The others were either sleeping or keeping watch, or subtly keeping their distance from him as Castiel took care of him.

“Who did this, Cas?” he asked weakly.

Cas looked sad. “We don’t know,” he admitted. “It was either in the food you had for breakfast this morning, or in your flask. Whatever it was, I’m afraid it was aimed specifically at you. Nobody else was hurt. I believe you should throw away the contents of your flask.”

“So… what? Someone tried to kill me?” asked Dean in disbelief. “Why didn’t they use something stronger that could do something more than make me throw up?”

“Anna says that the symptoms point to a plant called the demon’s breath,” Cas said. “It’s slow, but deadly. Anna has seen it before when Bill Harvelle was still her aviator. She says she can’t understand why you’re not dead.”

“Awesome.”

“I’ve been extra careful around you,” said Cas. “I haven’t let anyone come close to you ever since we landed. But I looked at the straps for your legs on my harness and I think those were messed with too. I think –“

“Someone really wants me out of the picture, don’t they?”

Cas didn’t speak, and that was enough for Dean. His head was just a bit clearer now, and he was getting more and more pissed with every passing moment. He realised there were many hours from the battle to now for which he had no information at all.

“I fell, didn’t I?” he asked. “You said the straps on your harnessed have been messed with. I fell.”

“Yes,” Cas answered. “I caught you.”

“How did you catch me without dropping Hester?”

Cas looked away. “I cut off the part of the hammock that was tied on me and went after you.”

Cas blinked. “You did what?”

“Samandriel, Inias and Rachel were also carrying her, and Gabriel was close,” Cas explained with a guilty expression on his face. “We had escaped the Elavorni already, and I just couldn’t let you fall.” He looked away. “Michael wasn’t happy.”

“I bet he wasn’t,” Dean commented. “Cas, Michael’s already pretty pissed at you for playing leader in front of the others,” he pointed out. “You should stay low, you shouldn’t disobey him.”

“And what should I have done, let you die?” asked Cas angrily. “I’d rather disobey the King himself than let you fall. I don’t care about the orders if obeying them equals losing you. Are we clear?”

Cas couldn’t help smiling weakly. “Damn you, Cas,” he said fondly and patted the dragon’s arm. “Yeah, we’re fucking clear. Clearer than we should. Thanks, buddy. For everything.”

Castiel nodded. Dean realised he had been stroking the dragon’s arm for a while. He patted him again and cleared his throat. “So what happened in the battle?” he asked.

“Well, we won,” said Cas simply. “It seems that Meg was indeed telling the truth. I learnt that she was the one the guards attacked most fiercely, and her appearance and Lilith’s more or less confirms it. They look horrible. Lilith almost lost a wing.”

“What about the rest? Did we lose anyone?”

Cas shook his head. “Most are injured, but nobody’s dead. You did your best to change that, but we were lucky you didn’t. One of the guards tried to attack you while you were falling. A last desperate act of defence, I think. Anna and Samandriel gassed him and I was able to catch you.”

Yeah, that came back to Cas. “Samandriel managed to breathe gas, huh?”

“…Yes.”

“How are you?” Dean asked sympathetically. Cas looked a bit offended.

“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, because you couldn’t when you tried and you seemed pretty bummed about it. You still do,” explained Dean.

Cas huffed. “I’m fine.”

“Because you know, you did manage to destroy a pyramid on your own,” Dean reminded him. “If it weren’t for you, we’d still be in there. That was pretty badass, what you did”.

Cas didn’t look him in the eye and Cas guessed he was just blushing under his scales. “It was nothing,” he said. “Anyone would have tried to do the same.”

“But you were the one who did it,” Dean pointed out. “You did great, buddy. And it wasn’t _nothing_ , I’d like to see anyone else there try.”

Cas didn’t answer and Dean finally got it. “Shit, Cas,” he exclaimed. “Is this about Samandriel and the gas thing?”

“Yes”, Cas admitted flatly.

“Oh, come on now”, said Dean dismissively, hoping that was the best way to approach the subject. “Everyone matures differently. You’re gonna make it in your own time”.

“Dean, it’s not that simple”, protested Cas. “You see yourself that I’m… different. I’m nothing like we expected”.

“Well, Anna and Samandriel are entirely different too”, Dean pointed out. “It doesn’t mean you –“

“I don’t know what it means”, Cas interrupted him, “all I know is that it’s peculiar and I don’t like it. There might be something wrong with me”.

“Cas, there’s nothing wrong with you”.

“Not to you, there isn’t”.

“Well, that’s all I care about, ain’t it?”

Dean knew the problem hadn’t been solved, but he counted Cas’ smile as a success.

He had too many things in his head to worry about anything else anyway.

* * *

 

The journey back to Auster took eight days. The former hostages were still too weak to travel in a normal speed, and Hester was still craving water, but at least nothing happened. Which, naturally, made Dean very uneasy.

He had talked about it with Cas over and over again, and he had tried to raise his points to Michael. Cas and Anna were sure Dean had been poisoned the other night, and so did most of the others, but Michael brushed the event off as Dean being too nervous or eating something he shouldn’t have. He didn’t seem to want to trust anything that came out of Castiel’s mouth, even if he was subtle about it, especially in front of the others. Castiel didn’t leave Dean out of his sight for the entirety of the journey, and Dean was keeping an eye on everyone. He hated the fact that he couldn’t trust anyone, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn’t possibly believe that any of the dragons had the ability to handle human food and poison it – unless of course they could too turn human, but what were the chances? – and he couldn’t fathom Benny or Jo doing anything like that to him. Of course the hostages were out of the question, but when it came to his own fellow soldiers, he didn’t know Kevin well enough, and while he seemed likeable and Dean wanted to believe that the kid was okay, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure about him and that made him uneasy. And Gordon, Bela and Meg were definitely people he couldn’t trust. He made a mental note to write to Sam as soon as they were back at Auster and ask his advice on the subject. He missed having around a person, an actual human being, whom he could and would trust with his life.

But it wasn’t only the fact that he didn’t know who wanted him dead inside his own regiment that made Dean’s leg bounce nervously throughout the entire journey, getting him a few light slaps from Cas when it happened during flights. A small regiment had just attacked and brought down an enemy base and released nine hostages, three of which were dragons. Why hadn’t the Elavorni hunted them down? Alastair and Azazel were both alive, he had learnt, because even against so many enemies, the two of them managed to come close to winning the battle. So the enemies must have known about this by now. Meg said it was a long trip back to Elavorn, especially for two severely wounded dragons who had lost their pride in being defeated by a small regiment, so retaliation wouldn’t come that fast, but Dean still didn’t like it. How could they possibly have one base in Kelmerr desert and then the closest thing to keep their soldiers in to be in Elavorn? It was many days away as the dragon flew, and it definitely wasn’t convenient.

Generally, Dean thought, the whole thing stank like dung and the fact that he couldn’t figure out anything pissed him off more than anything had before.

The former hostages weren’t really helping, either. They hadn’t seen much. They’d talked to Lucifer once or twice, and what Dean had got from the whole thing was that Lucifer was a scary motherfucker, but his subordinates were the ones to do most of the talking, which wasn’t much. They only came by to bring food and ask whether the hostages had changed their minds and wanted to join their side. The hostages had been treated miserably, but they hadn’t been tortured. They were free to go as long as they found their own way out of the pyramid and escaped the guards, which of course never worked. They were free to challenge Lucifer himself for their freedom, but if they lost, the penalty was death. It had been a long time and they were all happy to be out, but they needed time to readjust. Michael had pressured them at first to give him any information they had, but after the mental breakdown of the little girl, Rosie, even Bela agreed with the others that Michael needed to leave them alone.

Dean, respecting their need for some quiet time, only watched from afar. He wanted to talk to Lisa, remind her that he knew her already, but he was hesitating. Maybe his ego was a bit hurt, but every time he thought of that he mentally slapped himself for being insensitive. Lisa needed a quiet environment, not an old one-night-stand randomly coming to her, talking nonsense. Plus, Dean had found out that Ben, one of the two kids, was Lisa’s son, and he really didn’t know how to react to this. Sure, it had been a while since he last saw Lisa, but the kid looked too old for her to have had recently. Unless she already had him when she’d met Dean and hadn’t mentioned him. When Dean talked to Cas about not knowing what to do with Lisa, Cas didn’t give any specific answer and left him alone a bit harshly, leaving to help Samandriel with his tight harness. When Dean had tried to bring up the subject again a couple of days later, Cas completely ignored him and went to sleep. _Great_. As if Dean didn’t have any other troubles, he had to deal with Cas’ jealousy too. Dean would be supportive if Cas ever had troubles with a dragon lady, and… well, Dean didn’t like to think about that, but hey, he _totally_ would help a friend out. He would never be jealous of Cas’ relationship with someone else, right? Right. He could never be jealous of his best friend. About whom, by the way, he was really worried.

Dean spent a lot of time watching Cas, either in mid-air or when they were landed. Anna had congratulated Samandriel on being able to breathe gas on his opponents, and had said it was about time. Nobody but Dean had noticed that Cas had tried as well, and nobody commented on the fact that Cas didn’t manage. But Dean could see the effect the failed efforts had on Cas, and the only reason he didn’t talk to him about it was that Cas was being secretive and was trying to make it on his own, when he thought nobody could see him. Dean had no idea how to approach the subject, so he decided to believe in Cas and let him make it on his own.

In conclusion, when the regiment arrived at Auster the night of November the 19th, Dean’s brain was so freaking exhausted he felt like it would start running out of his ears. He needed some peace and quiet for a couple of days; that was all. That night, he slept with Cas outside the village, curled up against the dragon’s ribs, not even caring about the cold, trying to forget the world and hoping he’d wake up back on his ship the next morning.

<> 

Dean, to his great disappointment, did not wake up on the Impala. Instead, he found himself drooling on a wingtip bigger than his forearm, his head feeling heavy as if he had been drinking. He really needed something to make himself useful again. When Cas asked him to join him in a hunt, he didn’t refuse. He didn’t have anything to do anyway; after that mission, Michael had allowed a few days off training.

As Cas flew around Auster in search of prey, Dean enjoyed the wind on his face. He had missed the casual flights he and Cas used to have, and he fucking hated how much he missed those times in general. Life in Auster had been quiet until recently, and even though Dean had been a bit bored, he didn’t expect to miss those times; now the world was turning upside down. Enemies joining them, people trying to poison him, inexplicable behaviours from the Headquarters and Michael and the enemies and everyone; it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.

They stopped by the river, where Dean helped Cas out of his harness and watched him go off on his own to hunt. Dean sat under a tree by the riverside, took off his boots, rolled up his pants legs and wet his feet in the freezing water. He didn’t mind the cold; it made him feel alive, somehow. He sighed and lay back with his hands as a pillow. He really should get his ass moving and write to Sam, but something didn’t feel right.

He reached out for Cas’ mind, even though he had no idea where the dragon was or if he could manage the connection in such a distance.

_Cas? Are you eating?_

_Dean? I thought I left you by the river. Did you follow me?_

_Wow, you can actually hear me?_

_Obviously, I can. What is it?_

_Okay, I want to ask you something. I think I need to talk to Sam about this whole thing. I’m so freaking confused about the whole poison crap and all the stuff that make no sense, I wanna hear Sam’s opinion. What d’ya think?_

_You want my opinion on asking Sam’s opinion?_ Cas sounded amused, and Dean didn’t care that the dragon couldn’t see his smirk and his eyes rolling.

 _Seriously, man, I’m just asking,_ Dean answered, and part of him felt a bit strange afterwards for calling a freaking dragon “man” but hey, Cas was his best friend and Dean could call him whatever he wanted. _I don’t know if I should worry Sam with something like that. I mean, in the end, we’re not even sure it was poison, right? And we’re just soldiers. We aren’t supposed to be questioning the authorities. They might have plans we don’t know about._

 _That’s what worries me,_ answered Cas _. None of this war’s details make any sense._

 _Yeah, but we’re just pawns, right? We ain’t got no right to go asking questions, we just need to do what we’re told,_ said Dean uncertainly.

_If you’re satisfied with being just a pawn, I don’t have anything to suggest._

A hint of guilt poked Dean’s stomach _. Okay, then what do you suggest?_

 _Nothing you haven’t already thought of,_ answered Cas as Dean tried to ignore what sounded like a deer’s screeching in the distance and suppressed the need to wish Cas bon appetite _. Write to Sam. He might have an idea. Besides, he’s still in Elaurans, right? Or if he’s not, he will be soon. He could talk to your grandfather about this, and ask him what is happening in the army. He’s a Lord, he might know._

Dean blinked. He had never thought of that. Truth be told, now that the authority over him was the army’s Headquarters and then the King himself, he had completely forgotten that he had a grandfather that he could take advantage of. Well, it’s not like old Samuel had ever given him any reasons to remember him, but yeah, it was a great idea.

Dean looked to his side, a few feet away, where he had put Cas’ harness. His small sack was still on it, and he wondered if he had any paper and a pencil in it. Damn the comfortable position he’d settled in.

Well, it was worth a shot.

_Cas?_

_Yes, Dean?_

_Can you come over and gimme my bag?_

_Get up and get it yourself, you lazy human. I haven’t hunted in a long time. Let me enjoy some meat that’s actually warm for once._

Dean fought back his gag reflex and decided to insist. _Come on now, I wanna speak out loud too. I can’t deal with only this telepathy stuff. Come over here._

 _Dean, I am_ eating.

_Well, when you’re done will you come and gimme my bag?_

_You’re not only disgustingly lazy, you’re also thinking completely impractically. You do realise that my talons are bigger than the sack? I’m gonna rip it._

There it was. _You should go human-mode again, then._

_Dean –_

_Come on, Cas_ , Dean insisted in a way that he was very aware sounded like a whiny girlfriend. _Don’t tell me you haven’t missed it at all. I thought you liked it._

_…yeah, I do, but we can’t risk it._

_Yeah we can. We’re alone. Come on._

_Is that all about you being bored to get up and get that goddamn bag?_

_What bag?_

_The_ bag _, Dean!_

_Screw the bag, I’m gonna get up and get it myself when you get here and I have to give you something to cover yourself up._

Yeah, Dean could hear the exasperated sigh inside his brain and knew he had won. _Go get the damn bag and I’m coming. Just wait until I’m done, though. I don’t want to let all this meat go to waste._

_Awesome._

Dean could not hide his grin. He didn’t know why he had missed the human Cas so much, but he knew that it would cheer him up. He did have to wait, though, so he got up and opened the bag, and took out a couple of pieces of paper and a pencil, which he had fortunately forgotten in there. He decided that he could as well write to Sam since he had to wait a while anyway. He found a rock whose surface wasn’t too scratchy, placed his papers on it, sharpened the pencil with his knife, and thought about what he should say.

_~~Dear Sam,~~ _

_Dear Bitch-that-I-hope-hasn’t-gotten-even-taller-since-I-left,_

_What’s up? How’s things over there? I hope you’re taking care of the Impala or I’m gonna rip you to pieces when I see you again. I also hope you’re taking care of Mom. Is she any better? I hope Dad isn’t making her life miserable by bitching about me leaving and all._

_Anyway. Look, I’ve got a problem here. Things are weird. Remember when I told you about the hostages the Elavorni were holding? Well, we went and rescued them. Heroic stuff of legends, I know. I’m that kind of guy. Anyway, the point is that we were honest to God begging Michael to go and get them and he kept refusing for months. We had to pull a freaking mutiny for him to let us go. I have no idea if General Mills knew what we were doing before we left. But wait, there’s more. During the trip, just before the attack and especially during the fucking attack, I got sick. Like, really, disgustingly sick, man. Cas and Anna say I was poisoned, but there are literally no suspects and no motive and no freaking clue whether it’s true or not. Anna says it was demon’s breath, but she could be wrong. Nobody else got sick, even though we all ate from the same pot. If it really was something, it was aimed at me, and I’m kinda scared for my life here._

_On top of everything, we just broke into an Elavorni base and stole their leverage and there have been no moves against us. Something stinks, man, something really stinks here, that’s all I’m saying. Cas agrees with me but we’ve got no idea what to do and who to talk to. I really want you to give me an opinion._

_Cas suggested you talk to Grandadick Samuel about the whole thing. Like, I don’t know, ask him about what the freaking plans of the Crown are for the war. We’re being killed, man, you know it as well as I do. I wanna know it’s not for nothing. Is there like a secret plan that we’re following without being aware of it? Do they have a reason for us to stay low and accept the shit they throw on us? Because if there’s a reason, I wanna fucking know about it._

_Anyway, please contact me as soon as you can, man. I’m freaking out in here._

_Dean._

_~~PS: Btw I wanna ask you about~~ _

_~~Nevermind~~ _

_PS: Screw it I’m gonna ask anyway. Look, I’ve been thinking some stuff about Cas. Maybe you or Bobby might know. He’s seven months old, right? He’s already bigger than Anna, who’s a full adult, and Samandriel too. I swear man, you’d barely recognise him, he’s an awesome monster of a dragon. But I don’t know if it’s natural for him to be this big, I mean every book said that an Angel could only go up to like twenty feet long and about twelve tall, and last time I checked he was almost twenty-seven vs sixteen, and it’s freaking me out. Anna is so much smaller than him and he hasn’t reached full maturity yet. Also, Samandriel is less than five months old and he can breathe gas already, Cas tries and he really can’t. ~~I’m wondering if I scr~~ Shit, I need to tell you this, okay? Me and Cas, we kind of did something stupid before we left, see, he really liked the stories of the dragons and the humans who made a blood vow and got powers from each other, so we kind of might have done that? And since then we can hear each other into our heads, which I have no idea if it’s meant to happen, and he’s freaking able to turn human, Sam. He’s done it several times. You remember the kid that was with me in Mom’s garden party? That was him, I swear to God. He used to say that I would get dragon powers from him but I really haven’t, and now I’m worried whether the human blood did something to him. What if he’s never able to breathe gas or something, or if he keeps growing until he’s eighteen years old because that’s what humans do? What if I broke him, Sam? I know I’ve been stupid to do this but he wanted it so much. Just… please, if you’ve ever heard about anything like that, let me know. I’ll try to make sure nobody reads my mail, because I really can’t trust anyone right now._

_Okay I’m done now. Take care of yourself, you sasquatch. Write soon._

Dean bit his lip as he wiped the side of his hand on his pants, cleaning it of the blackness of the pencil. He folded the letter and sighed. He had no idea where this whole thing about Cas had come from, but he guessed it was only normal to worry. He expected a fifteen-page-long scold from Sam but hey, that was better than having to worry all the time. At least maybe Sam would have some answers to give between the names he’d call him.

Dean reached out for Cas again, and found him easily. _Cas? Are you done?_

_Yes, Dean, I’m finished. I’m coming right away._

Dean actually heard the cracking noises from inside the forest, even if he knew that Cas was far away. He shuddered at the sounds; they were still very creepy for his liking. He was surprised to feel the difference in Cas’ mind right away, dragon turning human. It was the same mind, it definitely was, only now it felt… smaller. More focused in one place. Dean was fascinated; he’d never been linked to Cas while he was transforming before.

Damn, the noises didn’t seem to stop. Had Cas forgotten how to shrink or something?

No, that wasn’t right. The noises seem to come from the wrong side of the forest now. And now that Dean was paying more attention to them, they didn’t sound like cracking bones either.

And then he heard the voices approaching.

Panicking, Dean screamed inside his head. _Damn, Cas, get back in the forest! Someone’s coming! Go back to being you, if they see a strange human here they’re gonna shoot first and ask questions later! Can you hear me?_

_Yes, Dean, I can hear you. I’ll be careful. Try to find out who it is._

Dean got up and shoved the letter inside his bag, as the voices came even closer, and Dean saw the two figures clearly as soon as they emerged from behind the trees.

“…chance in hell, so you can stop asking, okay, Gordon?”

“Come on, Lisa, just give me a chance, will you?”

“Are you even listening to what I –“

Lisa stared, and Dean stared back. She had just appeared, and Gordon was on her trail. Dean’s jaw was open in surprise. He’d expected a conspiracy or something, definitely not a date rejection, or whatever similar this was. Gordon looked at him angrily.

“Winchester,” spat Gordon as if it was an insult. “What are you doing here?”

“Crying and praying to the forest spirits for you to like me,” answered Dean. “Seriously, dude, say hello first.”

Dean saw Lisa trying to hide her smile as Gordon’s eyes became two narrow slits. “Where’s your dragon? What are you doing here alone?”

“For the love of crap, Gordon, I’m just taking a walk. You don’t see me asking where Samandriel is,” said Dean, keeping his mind on Cas’, noticing the change in the dragon’s thoughts as he changed back into his own shape. Dean never really liked Gordon, but he was now even more annoyed at him for not letting him spend some time with Cas the way he wanted. He thanked any deities that might be listening for the shuffling sounds of the scared animals around Lisa and Gordon’s trail, which kind of covered the distant sounds of Cas’ bones rearranging themselves.

“Don’t think I’m not on to you, Winchester,” hissed Gordon, and Dean raised an eyebrow as Lisa covered her eyes with her palm and sighed. “Don’t think I don’t know the game you’re playing. Pretending to be poisoned? Who did you think you fooled with that shit?”

“For God’s sake, Gordon,” said Lisa, “this is going too far. Having suspicions is one thing, but outright blaming? Calm yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” answered Gordon. “You saw him. I had to go on a mission in a fucking pyramid with him just because he convinced Michael that I was as much of a loser as he was to be given a freaking Angel instead of a proper dragon.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Dean, suddenly feeling his chest throbbing with anger, as Lisa gasped at Gordon. “I’m gonna kick your ass if you ever talk like that about Cas again, but there’s another reason you need a punch in the face, you dick. That’s _Samandriel_ you’re talking about!”

Dean’s fists were so tight his knuckles were white and his nails were hurting his palm. He reached for Cas’ mind frantically. _Fucking hell, Cas, come here quickly or I’m gonna kill Gordon with my own hands, I fucking swear._

_I’m here, Dean._

Cas appeared from behind the trees on the opposite riverbank and flew over the water with a couple of beats of his wings, landing next to Dean. Gordon eyed him, but then turned his focus on Dean again.

“Do you think they don’t know?” he asked. “Angel dragons are not fit for battle! You’re fooling him if you tell him he’s a warrior. You know who’s a warrior? Michael. And Lucifer too, that’s why we’re in danger. His army is full of Emerays and Firebreathers and freaking Devil’s Seeds, that’s why he’s gonna kick our asses. We’re trying to fight him off with Angels and Locharts and Mergons, for crying out loud. Do you really think there’s any chance for us?”

“Holy shit, Gordon,” said Lisa, “I’m away for a few months and suddenly you’re whinier than a hungry cat! Is your problem with the army or with Dean? And don’t you dare say your problem is with Samandriel.”

“My problem is with _everything_ , Lisa,” answered Gordon angrily. “The war is almost lost and they still pick people like him, and useless, guardian dragons instead of warriors to help us win it. We’re doomed and people like Dean Winchester are going to bring doom to us.”

“Now wait a fucking second –“ started Dean, but Cas stepped forward and stood in front of him.

“Watch your tongue, Gordon Walker,” he said coldly, “because I’ve had enough of your insults. You’ve offended my kind and my rider and the ones that give you a place to stay and a work to do. Not even dogs bite the hand that feeds them. Be grateful and stop attacking the ones that have not harmed you, or there will be consequences.”

Gordon gaped at Cas and turned to Dean. “Did your dragon just threaten me?”

“I’m not _his dragon_ , and you will talk to _me_ now,” ordered Cas and Gordon looked at him with his eyes round like saucepans. Dean’s chest was filled with pride. “You are treating Samandriel badly because you hoped you would be given an egg of your choice, of a dragon breed that would be _worthy of your standards_. You are a pathetic fool, and you are not worthy to ride on Samandriel’s back, or on any other dragon. You are taking this lightly and you don’t appreciate anything. We are not your pets, we are your partners, and you’d better realise that before it’s too late. If you even think of treating Samandriel like that ever again I will have to act and you will not like it.”

“It’s the second time you threaten me, Angel,” spat Gordon. “What are you going to do, rip me to pieces? See how that works out.”

“You are not worthy of the time it will take to clean my talons,” answered Castiel without missing a beat. “No, I will beat you down with your own weapons. I will report you to the Headquarters and I will make sure you are relieved of your duties. If you do not appreciate the dragon you were given, maybe you will appreciate his absence. Now stop harassing us and be on your way. I will not ask twice.”

Gordon, for a moment, looked as if he was going to answer. Dean watched with his heart beating hard against his ribcage, prepared for anything. He could swear that time had stopped. Castiel looked even bigger, more menacing, somehow; he was radiating power. His wings were raised above his head in a threatening arc and his tail was whipping the air behind him. Lisa could only stare with her hands covering her mouth.

Then Gordon broke eye contact with Cas and looked at Dean. “This isn’t over, Winchester,” he said, pointing a finger at him. He turned on his heels and left, moving noisily between the trees.

Dean breathed again. He looked at Cas, astonished, and saw him relax, even though his eyes were still narrow, like every time he was irritated.

“Wow,” was the only thing Dean found to say. “Where did all that come from, Cas?”

“I really dislike that person,” announced Cas calmly. Lisa laughed, and Dean only then remembered she was there too. He turned and looked at her.

“I have to say,” she said, smiling, “that was pretty awesome.”

Dean smiled and looked at Cas proudly before looking at her again. “Yeah, he does that,” he said, smiling back. “Did Gordon bother you? I heard him saying… stuff to you when you were coming by.”

She made a dismissive gesture. “I’m fine, trust me,” she said. “I’ve dealt with worse pigs than him in the past. Not that I enjoy his attention, but I can deal with it.”

“Because I can go and tell him a piece of my mind, if you want,” offered Dean, and he tried to ignore Cas actually freaking rolling his eyes.

Lisa’s smile widened. “Thanks, tiger, but I’ll be okay. Oh, and don’t worry, by ‘pigs of my past’, I don’t mean you, not by any chance.”

Dean blinked in surprise and felt Cas’ astonishment inside his head. He tried to cut off the connection between their brains. “You, uh… “ he chuckled nervously, “you remember me?”

“Sure I do,” said Lisa, looking amused. “Elaurans, wasn’t it? Four years ago? Yeah, I remember you. A Lieutenant in the Navy, aboard your father’s ship, sailing with your brother. You’d bet in my favour in a fight and got your money’s worth and more.”

Dean really hoped he hadn’t blushed. “And I thought you really didn’t know who I was,” he said awkwardly.

“You’re not as forgettable as you think, Dean,” Lisa said.

Dean opened his mouth to answer something, but he heard Cas’ low growl behind him; he turned his head. “Everything okay, Cas?”

“Of course,” Cas said coldly, to Dean’s surprise. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave. I’ve got that… thing you asked me to do. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, Cas,” called Dean as Cas got in position to fly off. “Where are you going? I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

“Yes, you did, before Gordon and Major Braeden here arrived. I intend to take care of it on my own, you don’t need to trouble yourself with that. I’ll be off now.”

“Cas –“

Dean was cut off by the beating of Cas’ massive wings and the wind and dust blowing on his face as Cas took off. What the hell was wrong with him? He was never so rude. And the only thing he’d asked him to do was… what? Bring him his bag? Well, that and to turn human. He couldn’t possibly mean that –

“Wow,” Lisa interrupted Dean’s thoughts and he looked at her, blinking. “Gordon really did piss him off, didn’t he?”

“I guess so,” shrugged Dean. “Don’t take him seriously, he’s never like that. He’s usually pretty great to be around.”

“He’s really interesting,” commented Lisa as she sat by Dean and took her boots off. “He’s an Angel, right? Inias says he is.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’ve told us.” Dean watched as Lisa rubbed her feet to protect them against the cold of November and shivered as she came closer to the riverbank.

“He’s pretty big for an Angel,” she pointed out, “and he’s got very long limbs compared to Anna and Samandriel. Are you sure he’s not a double breed? Maybe he’s got a bit of an Emeray inside him. Sometimes he does remind me of Inias.”

Dean wasn’t really in the mood to talk about Cas, but he honestly did _not_ want to stop talking to Lisa. “Speaking of which, where is Inias? I though me and Cas weren’t the only ones going around like conjoined twins.”

Lisa laughed. “Well, I usually go around everywhere with Inias too, but it’s been a while since he was home. We all missed it, but he had… other things to miss too. Or, to be specific, other _dragons._ ”

Dean frowned. “What, like a love interest?”

“Yes.” Lisa’s smiled widened even more when Dean raised his eyebrows. “Do you think that’s weird?”

“I don’t know,” said Dean. “I guess I can’t really imagine Cas with anyone. Who’s Inias’… well _, sweetheart?”_

“I’d have thought you’d found out while we were getting back,” commented Lisa. “It’s Anna. They’ve been together for a while and it’s really heartwarming to see them like that. You’ll see when Cas gets his own lovely dragoness to fall in love with.”

Dean nodded absentmindedly. “I guess I really can’t imagine him doing anything like that. Are you really okay with Inias and Anna’s relationship?” Shit, he felt bad for not being comfortable with using that word for dragons. It’s not like he shouldn’t have expected it; they were intelligent beings, capable of thousands of things humans did. Why hadn’t he fathomed the possibility of Cas finding a girlfriend?

“Of course I’m okay with it,” Lisa said, interrupting his thoughts. “Look, most aviators are emotionally connected with their dragons. Don’t take Gordon or Chuck as an example; they were both given dragons before they were ready, just because they had seniority and the Headquarters thought it was best they finally got their dragons. This isn’t how it should be done, though. The rest of us have taken dragons that we have chosen to take care of for months before they hatched, and our bond is extremely strong. I can see your own relationship with Castiel and it is one of the best I’ve ever seen. When one of you finds a special someone to date or spend his life with, the other one is gonna feel great about it, I swear. When Inias and Anna first started sort of dating, it was acting so ridiculous, I was always in a good mood, as if I was in love myself.”

Dean could only nod. He really didn’t like to think of that possibility for either himself or Cas. It sort of felt like a betrayal. They were best bros, right? They had each other, and Dean had no idea where any girl could fit between them. It was a weird as fuck thing to think about, but hey, aviators weren’t supposed to have families, right?

Then why did Lisa have a son?

Screw it.

“So…” Dean started, “do you have a special someone?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

Dean shrugged. “I met your son Ben during the journey back,” he explained. “Last time I saw you, you didn’t tell me about him. Is his dad someone you hadn’t told me about too?”

Lisa chuckled. “I didn’t cheat on anyone when I was with you, Dean”, she said. “Ben’s dad was a guy I’d met a long time ago, and who only gave me one good thing: Ben. I was young and unprepared then, and I was thinking about not keeping Ben either, but the Headquarters forbid that.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” he exclaimed. “Why would they do that?”

“Well, new aviators are always needed,” Lisa explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. “If something happens to me, then who would be better to ride Inias than my son, right?”

“Lisa, people are not objects!” protested Dean. “Did they really make you keep a child you didn’t want? Is that why you didn’t tell me –“

“Hush now”, ordered Lisa. “Ben is my son and I love him more than anything. I didn’t tell you about him because guys tend to freak out by my rank alone, imagine telling them I have a son as well. I wanted to have a good time when I met you, there was no need to complicate things.”

“So, now things are complicated?” asked Dean, willing to drop the subject. “Now that I know about your life and exactly what you do?”

“You really think such a big part of my life revolves around you,” said Lisa, but her tone was teasing. Dean shrugged.

“Well, I _am_ the most loveable of them all.”

Lisa laughed. “Yeah, I guess you are,” she said absently, looking into the distance, before she turned and looked at him, smiling. Dean tried to smile back. “Truth is, I had a great time with you, Dean,” she said softly. “When we met at that inn, and when I left your room the next morning, I really hoped to meet you again someday.”

“You did?” asked Dean, smirking.

“More than you know,” she answered. “But I was here and you were there, and –“

“I know,” Dean interrupted her and leaned forward to softly place his lips against hers. She let out a small gasp and then closed her eyes, returning the kiss.

Dean felt a kind of warmth running through his veins as he tasted the coffee and honey in Lisa’s mouth. It had been such a long time, and he had no idea how much he needed this until now. _Yes,_ he thought, _things are good now, things will work out this time, I don’t need anything else, I’m content._

He placed his hand on Lisa’s shoulder, and just as he tried to pull her closer, a stomach-twisting anger pierced through his brain and gut. He pushed away Lisa and pressed at his temples, groaning in pain, as she stared at him, astonished. He couldn’t speak; his head was throbbing and he couldn’t open his eyes. Through foggy thoughts, he thought he heard Lisa calling his name. His ears were ringing and he felt horrible, he wanted to roar and fly away and –

And these were definitely _not_ his own feelings.

He realised just then that his mind was still connected to Cas, and Cas was _pissed_.

“Dean!” Lisa’s voice reached him as if it was coming through water. He looked up and tried to focus on her face. She didn’t look so much irritated as she looked worried.

“Lisa, I’m sorry, I…” Dean muttered, not knowing what to say.

“Are you alright?” Lisa asked, concerned. Dean shut his eyes and made a grimace, trying to ignore the red spots behind his eyeballs. “What’s happening?”

“It’s nothing, it’s –“ _Damn it, Cas, get out of my head! What the hell happened to you?_ “I’ll be fine, just… just wait one sec –“

And then it was over. Only the memory of the agony stayed behind. He breathed heavily, trying to get his head back into focus.

 _Cas?_ he asked inside his head, trying to find the dragon’s consciousness. There was no answer. _Cas! What the hell happened?_ Silence, once again.

“Dean? What was that about?” asked Lisa, sounding really worried now. Dean shook his head helplessly.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I –“ He what? He was sorry to let his weird-ass telepathic connection with his dragon get in the way of their making out session? He was sorry to act weird without being able to give a proper explanation? He groaned in despair. He had literally no freaking idea what to say and how to get out of that. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know what got into me. I don’t know what happened.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Lisa. “Do you want to go to a healer? Pamela might be able to come up with something until we get to the Headquarters.”

“No, I’ll be fine, I just – I just need some rest. I’m really sorry.”

“I hope it wasn’t the kiss that triggered that,” said Lisa in an obvious desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but Dean could only huff. Lisa bit her lip. “Okay,” she said. “I really hope it wasn’t that, because I was kinda looking forward to it for some time now. Anyway, let’s get you back to your lodgings. I’ll carry Castiel’s harness, okay? You just take care of yourself.”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll –“

“Shush, I’ll take care of you. Come on, let’s get you back.”

They walked back to Auster in silence, Lisa carrying the harness in one hand and holding Dean with the other, Dean still a little dizzy, carrying his boots, feeling the dirt under his feet.  They didn’t speak until they were back. Lisa took Dean to the baths and offered to stay with him until he was relaxed, but as much as he wanted to, he had to decline. She left after she made him promise to let her know how he was soon.

Dean cleaned himself thoroughly, unable to calm down. What the hell was wrong with Cas? He rubbed himself with a sponge until his skin was red and tingling, imagining a hundred different scenarios of what would happen next. He finished washing, got dressed without properly wiping the water and off him, making his clothes stick on him in spots, and didn’t even bother drying his hair. He just went out and headed for the dome, looking for Cas.

The dome was pretty much empty, except for Inias and Anna, sleeping, snuggled together like a pair of huge cats. Hester was also there, still trying to recover. To Dean’s surprise, Garth was taking care of her, dampening her scales with a wet towel.

“Hey, Garth?” Dean called quietly, as to not disrupt Anna and Inias’ sleep. Garth looked up.

“Hey, man,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Uh, I’m lookin’ for Cas,” said Dean. “You seen him?”

“Nah, sorry dude,” answered Garth. “Not for some time, at least. I think he was heading to the river last time I saw him.”

“Yeah, we were heading to the river this morning, _together,_ ” said Dean impatiently, with only a hint of guilt for being ready to snap at Garth. It wasn’t his fault, really.

“No, it’s been about an hour,” said Garth. “You guys are always like stuck on each other so I thought you must have seen him since then. Haven’t you?”

“No, it’s been some time,” answered Dean. “To the river, you said?”

“Yeah, with Samandriel. He kinda rescued him from Gordon, if you know what I mean, Gordon’s going a bit nuts,” Garth whispered as if he was trying to conceal a conspiracy.

“What happened?” asked Dean, concerned.

“Well, Cas passed by and he was kinda pissed, and then for some reason he got _really_ pissed, and Samandriel was here with Gordon, so Sammy went to Cas to ask him what’s up, and well, Gordon got mad too.”

Dean tried to ignore the nostalgic pain in his gut when Garth referred to Samandriel as “Sammy”. “And then what happened?”

“Well, Gordon told Sammy he shouldn’t go around Cas anymore because he was a bad influence or something, see Sammy has been asking to take his harness out at night because it’s tight, and Cas is the only one who does that, you know? And I swear to God, man, Cas was so freaking pissed his eyes were glowing, and I really thought for a moment that he was gonna rip Gordon to pieces. What he did was to take Samandriel and go away, they said they were going swimming or something? So I guessed they went to the river. You’d better wait for them, man, I don’t think either of them is in the mood to talk.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, okay. I guess I’ll wait.” He paused for a bit, lost in the mess inside his head. “Do you want some company?”

“Sure, man. Can you refill the bucket for Hester?”

“…yeah, sure.”

Dean took the bucket to the small artificial fountain outside the dome and put it under the faucet. He wasn’t planning on spending time pampering another dragon, but what the hell. He tried to reach for Cas with his mind again, but found only silence.

He spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening with Garth and Hester, who had apparently become “partners in crime”, as Garth had put it, since Hester’s rider was killed in battle when they were still imprisoned. It was going to be tough for her, Garth explained, but he was willing to give his everything to make her feel better and get back on her feet.

Dean knew the feeling. The only problem was, he seemed to be missing a dragon to be affectionate towards. 


	12. Doubts

Dean didn’t manage to find Cas until late that night, and it wasn’t pleasant. Cas, for some reason, was really angry with Dean, and wouldn’t give him any explanation. Dean tried asking him about a lot of things: Gordon, the army, Samandriel and what he was going through, and in the end, Lisa. When he mentioned her name, Cas’ eyes flashed with anger.

“Next time you decide to proceed to sexual advances towards a female of your choice, make sure to keep me out of your head!” he spat at Dean. Dean, for his part, got pretty pissed with Cas. He had been going somewhere with Lisa, and Cas could have cut off the damn connection himself. He only calmed down after he had kicked a few pebbles on the road. He guessed Cas sort of had a point. And it wasn’t as much the fact that said point was said in a low growl that made the earth under Dean’s feet tremble, as it was that Cas indeed wasn’t experienced in the “courting and mating habits of humans”, as he called it. Dean guessed it was kind of normal for him to not be able to tell what Dean wanted to do, and well, Dean had to admit that if he had been in Cas’ place, he wouldn’t have had the best reaction either.

But yeah, maybe it _was_ just that Cas’ rumbling complaint made the earth under his feet tremble. That could be pretty persuasive too. Generally, Dean thought, he spent so much time with Cas that he sometimes forgot that if the dragon wanted to, he could bite Dean in half without even trying. He felt really grateful that night for Cas being content with growling at him. He promised himself to try and not piss him off again.

And sure, the more he thought on it, the more he realised that he might have reacted even worse if he had been in Cas’ shoes. He tried to imagine how it would feel to have Cas inside his head licking the face of another dragon, or whatever it was that dragons did instead of kissing, and he shivered in disgust. He had to be prepared for it, though, because sooner or later it would happen, and Dean couldn’t do anything about it except distract himself with a relationship of his own.

He tried to imagine who Cas could hit it off with. Anna was out of the question; she was taken. There was no other Angel dragon around, but hey, Anna was with Inias, right? So Cas could find someone outside his own kind. Abaddon and Lilith didn’t seem likely, because they were freaking creepy, but what about someone else, like Hester, or Rachel? Naomi was probably out of the picture as well, because she was but an authority to them, like General Mills (even though at least the General had asked some specific soldiers to call her Jodie once, which was weird, but at least she had good intentions – Naomi was truly cold-blooded, even for a giant lizard who spat ice cones).

Maybe Dean should stop being an unreasonably jealous prick and start rooting for Cas finding the dragoness of his dreams, or something along those lines.

He didn’t sleep that well that night.

* * *

 

By the next morning, Dean had decided to work hard at fixing his mistakes in his relationship with Cas. He didn’t like the two of them fighting all the time, so he went to the dome and suggested that Cas could come with him in the city to send the letter to Sam. Cas did indeed follow him, but declined Dean’s offer to go around the city as they had in Elaurans, with Cas as a human. Dean didn’t insist, even though he was disappointed. It would take some more time for Cas to agree to changing forms again, it seemed, but Dean had waited so long, and he really couldn’t wait to see Cas’ human face again.

Cas flew Dean to the capital, right outside the post office. There was a carriage leaving for Elaurans and the rest of Senvar that afternoon, which Dean considered a good sign. He sent Sam’s letter, giving the postman a tip to make sure the letter arrived.

Since Cas wasn’t in the mood to do anything special or out of the ordinary, Dean proposed they just went flying for a bit like they used to. Cas, though a bit reluctant, agreed, so Dean suggested they went sightseeing. They still had no orders from Michael to go and join the training, so they flew above the city lazily, just looking at it. Dean caught himself comparing it to Elaurans, and had to mentally slap himself to avoid drowning in his own nostalgia.

At some point, Cas hesitantly asked to stop by the Great Angel Temple. Dean complied easily, remembering why he had promised himself to never deny Cas anything.

The temple was huge, slightly smaller than the royal palace in the centre of the city. Since it was one of the greatest buildings in the capital, it was designed to receive dragon visitors as well as humans, via the opening of the dome on top of the building. Cas landed on a platform easily, and Dean looked around. He found a bell hanging on a string next to the spherical glass gate of the dome, and rang it. Soon enough, a priestess appeared behind the glass. She was dressed in blue and was smiling kindly; she opened the dome for them to pass through and made a gesture to let them know they needed to fly all the way down. Cas obeyed cautiously, not as much flying as he was gliding on the air, under the curious but discreet looks of the priestesses and few priests.

Dean looked around him. He had never been a religious man, but habits like saying “for the love of God” were difficult to avoid when most people around you believed in something. That something, in the case of Elaurans, was usually the Sea herself, or her faithful son, Orlythar, the god of the oceans. Dean knew most people travelling by sea needed something to believe in and pray to, and he respected that, even though he believed all that was needed was skill, a good crew, and a good eye for the weather. Muttering prayers to an unseen god was the last thing he’d seen many people do.

Anyway, Orlythar was the god of oceans. He was mostly prayed to under someone's breath, or over a glass of salt water for luck. His altars were glass bottles with the name of a drowned man written in a paper inside it, or wooden huts on a beach of an island that wasn’t as much an island as a patch of sand in the middle of the ocean, or they were but a name written on the haul of a ship. There was an angel temple in Elaurans, but it wasn’t big, and it wasn’t showy; it had generally adapted to being a religious building in a place where people believed in a god out of necessity or use more than they did because they actually wanted to.

The temple in the capital was… well, it was _big_ , for starters. Enormous swirling staircases ascended through the ceilings and floors, their railings decorated with bronze angelic figures. The ceilings were so high that Cas barely had to crouch his head to pass through; the windows were twice the height of a grown man, made of brass casings and stained glass the colours of the rainbow. The walls were probably white but their colour changed with the light coming through the windows. Angelic figures covered the walls, along with stories illustrated in images drawn in pale colours, blue and purple and pink. The halos were painted in gold, the wings in silver, and the names written in turquoise angelic writing that Dean couldn’t read.

The priests and priestesses were dressed in simple robes in variations of blue. Dean could hardly tell the men from the women, because all of them had long hair styled in braids, clean faces and mostly flat chests. Their robes were long, but they had cuts in the sides, where Dean could see the priests’ trousers underneath. Their sleeves were loose and they wore simple belts around their waists. The only ornaments on them were their amulets.

“Sir?”

Dean turned towards the voice. A priestess was standing next to him. She was petite, with black hair and a kind expression, and Dean couldn’t help smiling at her.

“Hello,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “I’m really sorry, I’m not familiar with angel ways. I’m not doing something wrong, am I?”

“No, sir, of course not,” said the priestess. “I simply wished to know if you wanted me to show you around.”

Dean looked at Cas, who nodded. “Sure, why not,” he said. The priestess smiled.

“Very well,” she said. “I am Sister Tessa. Follow me.”

Dean and Cas obeyed, and Sister Tessa led them through corridors with high ceilings and beautiful paintings. Dean wasn’t a big art fan, but he liked what he saw, and he especially liked the look on Cas’ face; the dragon looked fascinated.

“I’m sorry to ask,” said Sister Tessa, and Dean looked at her. “You are one of the aviators, right, sir?”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “I’m Captain Dean Winchester, and this is Castiel.”

“Castiel?” asked Tessa. “An angelic name, quite strange for a dragon. It’s beautiful.”

Cas looked a bit embarrassed at that, but he didn’t talk. Dean figured he ought to pick up the conversational slack. “Well, he picked it,” he said. “People have told me it’s strange, but I’m happy with it, I couldn’t have found him a better name. Even though, now that I think about it, there are several dragons with angelic names in the order.”

“Are there?”

“Yeah, or I think they are angelic, at least. I’m not an expert,” admitted Dean, rubbing his neck nervously.

“Are you here to learn or to look?” asked Tessa politely, and Dean wasn’t sure what to answer. Cas spoke first, though.

“Both,” he said and his voice rumbled among the long halls. “I want to know about angels. Are they real?”

Dean was ready to apologise for him, afraid to insult the priestess, but she laughed lightly. “Of course they are,” she said. “They came to this world later than dragons did, of course, but they never meddled with the business of humans unless asked, so they kept their powers intact.” Dean realised she was simply stating facts, not trying to insult Cas’ species.

“What do Angel dragons have to do with actual angels?” asked Cas.

“There are many theories,” said Tessa. “Some say it is because your kind is tamer than others, and tend to protect people more often. Others say that Angel dragons have actual angelic heritage, that their kind was created after angels started dealing with dragons, many thousands of years ago.”

“Is that true?” Cas insisted.

“No, I don’t think so,” Tessa admitted, and Dean saw the disappointed look on Castiel’s face. “Legends say there are dragons with angelic abilities, though.”

“The hybrids,” Dean recalled. “But that’s just a story.”

“Could it be based on actual facts?” asked Castiel. “What exactly is it about?”

“The legend says that in a time of great peril, when the demons are unleashed in this world, the angels and the dragons, the Two of the Three Ancient Ones, will join their powers,” Tessa explained. “It is said that they will create the Holy Seglaag, a race of mighty beasts, half angel, half dragon, who will ride down from the Heavens and save Agorresh from its horrible fate.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Dean suspiciously. “That the ancient scripts predicted the war with Elavorn and that our only hope is the Heavens?”

“Technically, Elavorn is a part of Agorresh too,” said Tessa patiently. “No, they say the war will be with the demons, not with each other. And the Seglaag will bring peace. The exact script is translated to our language from the old Celestial writings as this: _‘Born in betrayal, in the image of the dragon, with the blood of the angels, the Seglaag will shed blood and make the armies fight as one, and when the Demons are destroyed, peace will be restored.’_ We are yet waiting for them to arrive.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but how come the prophecies don’t speak of actual angels?” asked Dean. “Why would an angelic religion praise creatures that are half-dragons? Isn’t worshipping dragons considered idolatry?”

“I can see you’re not religious.” Dean felt the blush spread on his cheeks. “The dragons are accepted in the angelic religion as an important part of it. Besides, the angels won’t walk the earth anymore; their blood holds too much power and they can’t risk the humans going after it again. The Seglaag are our last chance to prove ourselves worthy of celestial help.”

“But don’t those creatures have angelic blood as well?” asked Dean, confused. “Why wouldn’t humans go after them as well?”

“The Seglaag are described as much fiercer than angels,” Tessa explained. “Nobody would dare hunt down the most powerful dragons the world had ever seen just to take some of their blood, sir. The ways of the angels are wise.”

“What are the Seglaag described as, exactly?” asked Castiel.

“Here, take a look,” Tessa suggested, and she pointed at a painting on the wall. Grotesque, pale red figures were being defeated by a great army of blue creatures. The creatures were holding people in their hands protectively, and they were three or four times bigger than the humans. They had muscular human torsos and legs and arms, but their feet and hands and heads were dragon-like. They had dragon tails and four angel wings each, and around their mighty heads were halos that blinded their enemies. Light came out of their great swords and their bodies, and Dean’s guess would be that their dicks probably spat rainbows too. What a horrible way to manipulate the flock, giving them false hope like that. This was like those ancient legends of that poor king whose wife fucked a bull or something equally sick, and the child was human with a bull’s head and had to be hidden in a labyrinth, and only a hero could save humanity, and blah blah blah. It was completely ridiculous.

“I’ve seen them, you know,” Tessa said, and Dean looked at her suspiciously.

“You’ve seen these creatures?” he asked.

“No, not these ones. They haven’t arrived yet. But I’ve seen angels.”

“You have?” asked Dean. Of course, he couldn’t trust a priestess of the angels as much as he would have believed an atheist who’d say the same thing, but he didn’t expect her to claim something like that. “When?”

“It happened when I was a young girl. An angel came to earth and spoke to us. He didn’t tell his name, he did tell us the prophecy was close to its fulfilment, though.”

“You mean the prophecy about the angel-dragon hybrids?”

“The Seglaag?”

 _Sure, whatever they’re called._ “Yeah.”

“Yes, that was the prophecy that he confirmed.”

 _Awesome._ “I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“It’s a very good thing, sir, and it will come from a very bad thing.”

“What did the angel look like?” asked Castiel, and Dean blinked in surprise, but Tessa smiled again.

“He was beautiful,” she said. “He couldn’t speak for himself, because his voice would deafen us all, so he used a human to communicate. He came in the darkest of nights, one without a moon, in the middle of the darkest room in the temple, and we could see as if it was daytime. I remember that his skin looked like it was made of moonlight and his wings were like quicksilver, glowing under the light of his own body. He was one of the lower ones, those who take human form, but he still was magnificent. He towered over the high priestess and his voice flowed through her and reached us. I will never forget him. To be honest,” she said, lowering her eyes from Castiel’s face, “you do remind me of him a little, sir.”

It took Dean and Cas both a couple of seconds to realise she was talking to Castiel. He looked surprised. “Me?” he asked. “Why?”

“Your wings, sir, they look the same,” she explained. “You look more angelic than the others of your kind. Maybe it’s a sign that you are meant to be here.”

“A sign to the prophecy coming true, maybe?” Dean tried to fish for info.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Tessa said. “Whatever it is, I am glad to meet you both.” A bell sounded, and Tessa looked away for a moment before turning back to them. “I am sorry, I will have to go now. May you always be under a wing, sirs.”

“And may you have good winds, ma’am,” answered Dean, surprising even himself by recalling the official greeting of the angel believers. Tessa grinned, pleased, and left.

Dean looked at Castiel questioningly, wondering if they should keep touring around the temple. Castiel just nodded, and they started walking towards the exit, slowly, taking in the images around them.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said at some point, when they were staring at a painting of a hoard of angels smiting a bunch of demons back into a fiery pit. Castiel looked at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in angels?”

Castiel shrugged and moved on from the painting. “I am unsure,” he said. “I’m just wondering what angels and dragons have in common. I am aware of the common heritage, but I have found no book to explain that yet.”

“Have you read any books lately?” asked Dean innocently.

“No. I need much smaller hands to read books,” answered Cas.

“What I’m saying is –“ Dean looked around and hurried towards the main gate to take them out of the Temple, leaving Cas no option but to follow. After they had thanked the priests and were ready to fly again, Dean continued talking. “What I’m saying is, have you turned human lately?” _“Without me?”_ was the unsaid question, but Dean, as they took off, made sure it remained unsaid.

“No, I haven’t,” Cas said calmly, as Dean covered his eyes with his goggles, and the city became smaller and smaller under them. “Last time I did was yesterday in the river.”

“Did you manage it?” asked Dean, disappointed he hadn’t been there to see it.

“Yes, I did. Only –“

There was a pause. “Only what, Cas?”

“I don’t know why, but it didn’t work as well as before. Maybe I was stressed. Maybe it was because I hadn’t done it in a long time. But it didn’t work well.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t manage to transform… completely,” Castiel tried to explain.

“Well, you never did, right?” asked Dean encouragingly. “Like, you always had a few scales left here and there when you were done.”

“It wasn’t only that, Dean,” insisted Cas. “It was… my wings. I couldn’t hide them, no matter what I did. It scared me a little.”

It dawned on Dean. “Is that why you were asking about angels and your kind? Because you thought you looked like one?”

“I didn’t know what angels look like,” stated Cas. “It was just an instinct.”

Dean nodded, even if he knew Cas couldn’t see his face. “Well, what did you think, in the end? Do you have angelic heritage?”

“… Are you using sarcasm again?”

Dean laughed. “No, Cas, I’m actually asking. You’re getting better at noticing it, though.”

“Thank you. And no, I don’t believe I have anything in common with angels except the name. You saw what those creatures… those _Seglaag_ , looked like. That’s if they’re even real.”

“I don’t think they are, to be honest.”

“Neither do I.”

“So, what? You’ve got no idea what ‘s going on with you?”

“That is correct, yes.”

Dean sighed. It was strange how that little phrase summed up his entire life at this point.

* * *

 

For the next week or so, Dean tried to spend as much time with Cas as possible. He helped him with his harness and joined him in hunting, and talked to him about anything he could think about – well, except Lisa. Never Lisa. But they did talk about angels a lot, and Dean found a book about them to read to Cas. And they talked about Samandriel, and decided to keep an eye on him. Gordon was being rather mean to him, and Dean and Cas knew they weren’t the only ones to have noticed. Samandriel’s well-being had suddenly become a collective issue, even though none of them could really do anything about it; an aviator’s relationship with their dragon was completely personal, and nobody had the right to interfere.

Dean didn’t talk much with Lisa. She did look a bit annoyed and tried to confront him once, but he made up a story about still clinging to his fiancé at home, and hey, he realised, he really did have a sort-of fiancé that he’d left to become an aviator; he didn’t even need to lie. He did feel rather bad for remembering way too late that he should be still sad about Cassie, but well, he decided his subconscious was just protecting him by not letting him remember it, or whatever crap Sam would say. Anyway, Lisa seemed to respect his feelings, by saying she’d be there if he ever needed her, that she’d give him his time to sort things out, and basically went back to acting more or less the way she had before they had kissed by the river.

When Dean wasn’t with Cas, he tried not to neglect the rest of the aviators. His mood always lifted when Charlie joined them at nights, when she was let free from headquarters, and he generally tried to be pleasant company. He tried to learn as much as he could about the people he hadn’t met before; sure, he knew Lisa already, but there were others he needed to know, and if he wanted this place to feel like home, he’d have to work at it. It turned out that Adam had heard of the Winchesters, something that Dean wouldn’t have found out if he hadn’t spoken to the kid. Apparently, Adam’s mother and John had met a couple of times, and John had arranged for Adam to be accepted into the Aviators’ Order when he was a kid; it was the only time he’d met John. Dean was surprised; it was unusual for his father to make such kind gestures, and he’d never heard of the Milligans before. Then again, John barely talked to Dean about anything, so Dean let it go.

Linda Tran spent most of her time either with her son or helping at headquarters, so Dean didn’t see her much, but he liked her. Ben, Lisa’s son, was a pretty cool kid who’d started looking up to Dean, and Dean had decided to play big brother once more (even though sometimes he felt Ben was young enough to be his son). Jess was a girl who usually went unnoticed, but Dean had seen her talking to people she felt more comfortable with, and knew that she was very smart and funny. He wondered, for some reason, how she and Sam would have gotten along, had they ever met.

The one person whom Dean didn’t see often, and therefore couldn’t keep an eye on, was Meg. Ever since the regiment came back from Kelmerr, Meg spent most of her time at headquarters. Her information on the location of the hostages and how to retrieve them might have been correct and helpful, but that didn’t make her an instant ally. Trusting her was a risk that General Mills wasn’t willing to take again. So, until the training started, Meg was juiced for useful information all day. As far as Dean learnt, though, Meg didn’t really know much. Naomi, who had the reputation of being the number one interrogator – as Dean had been informed by a shuddering Garth – hadn’t managed to find out very many things about the Elavorni, at least not many that they didn’t know already. Lucifer was secretive and he only revealed plans after they’d completely formed inside his head; wisely, as it seemed. So Meg was soon released from most suspicions and allowed to join the others freely, as an official member of the regiment.

The training started again by the end of November, when Michael called everyone into the arena and told them they would start a new cycle of exercises and tactics, because there was word from Kelmerr that Elavorn was moving again; Kelmerrians were cross that the Elavorni had used and destroyed some of their most precious monuments, and they had decided to send weapons to the capital to help out, even if they had been mostly neutral until now.

In the arena, Dean was surprised to see not only the usual pairs, but others as well. He guessed it was pretty normal for Lisa with Inias, as well as Linda Tran with Rachel and Garth with Hester to be there, but Gabriel was definitely a surprise. Especially when Dean noticed a young blonde woman on his back. _Jess_ , of all people, had managed to become Gabriel’s aviator.

Well. Dean saw new things every day.

The first day’s training was harder on Dean than any other before that. He didn’t know if it was because Gabriel had actually joined the fight, or because it had been a while since he fought, or because the new moves were different than what they’d been practicing before, but in the end he ended up completely exhausted. Even Cas was panting by the afternoon, and Michael soon left them to rest.

That night, tired as everyone was, they decided to celebrate. They were alive, they were active, they were back in the arena, and they were getting ready for the real thing. They took drinks and food from Ellen’s bar – well, they took Ellen with them too – and headed for the forest, all of them, aviators and dragons alike. Well, _most_ of them. Gordon stayed behind, and so did Metatron, and Samandriel had to sneak out to join the others. They lit a huge fire and roasted steaks and sausages and drank more than they could handle; it turned out that Benny could play the harmonica, and Charlie kept a great rhythm with sticks on hollow tree trunks, and Kevin played the cello, which he somehow managed to bring to the forest with him. They all sang and danced around the fire, even Bela and Meg. They tried different songs, ones that they all knew and others only a couple of them knew, and laughed hard at others’ attempts to sing, or at jokes that really weren’t that funny. After a few hours of non-stop dancing and singing, when everyone grew tired, they didn’t want to go to bed, so they started telling stories instead. Gabriel, with whom Dean hadn’t had many chances to talk, turned out to be a lot of fun.

“I’m telling ya,” he said, “those stories about the Council dragons? All true. How do you think I became an exile? You try sleeping with the King’s dragon and live to tell the tale.”

“Yeah, right,” Jo said. “As if.”

“No, really,” Gabriel insisted, and continued with a very fake dreamy look. “She stole my heart, the gorgeous Kali… and some other parts of me, if you know what I mean.” He stopped when the others started throwing stuff at him.

Generally speaking, Dean thought, it was the best time he had had in months, and it really reminded him of his family. He wished Sam was there more than ever.

They all went to sleep when the first rays of the sun started appearing in the horizon. There were no regrets.

* * *

 

The next morning, as was expected, the entire regiment was completely exhausted, and in some cases, ridiculously hungover. With about two hours of sleep and the weariness of the previous day still on them, nobody was really up for another hard training session. Michael, though, who hadn’t taken part in the previous night’s frolicking, wasn’t planning to let them go that easily. Only after a couple of hours did he accept defeat and let the regiment rest until seven in the evening, when they would continue the training properly.

Dean had managed not to get drunk last night, so he was still in a pretty good state of mind, except for his exhaustion. He followed Cas to the dome, planning to sleep against the dragon’s ribs, as he had done so many times in the past. Cas was a bit restless, though.

“Come on, Cas, what is it?” muttered Dean, when Cas shifted for the fifth time, putting Dean out of his half-sleep.

“I can’t sleep,” replied Cas, annoyed.

“Why not? You didn’t rest any more than I did last night. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cas, just tell me what’s up.”

Castiel raised his head and looked at Dean. “Do you have any books on angels over here?”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you wanna look up angels at this time?”

“Just answer the question, Dean.”

“I don’t know,” Dean groaned. “Maybe. Ellen brings books from the Central Library sometimes. Go ask her. But I need my sleep, I can’t read to you right now.”

Castiel got up abruptly, making Dean lose his balance and fall on his back. “I won’t need your assistance,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Cas, wait,” Dean called after Cas, who had already started heading for the dome’s exit. “What the hell –“

“Hey, moron!” came a voice from the other side of the dome, and Dean turned to see an annoyed Crowley puffing fumes from his nostrils. “You shut your bloody cakehole. We’re trying to sleep here! If you don’t want to shut up, go outside and break your neck, for all I care. Just get the hell out!”

Dean thought about giving him a piece of his mind, but decided against it. He went after Cas, muttering insults under his breath.

“Come on, Cas, wait just a second!” he yelled after the dragon, who turned to look at him, without breaking stride. Dean noticed they were heading for the forest again and he didn’t try to change direction; the fewer people around them, the better. He took a deep breath before speaking, wanting to look aside, but forcing himself to look Cas in the face. “For fuck’s sake, man, sometimes I don’t understand you. You’re acting weird. You never disappear like this. Can’t you tell me what’s up?”

“There’s nothing wrong, I just want to read something. I have questions that need answering,” Cas responded.

“On angels?” asked Dean in disbelief. “I thought you’d gotten over that. Why don’t you try and get some sleep? We’ll look up everything you want to together later.”

“I can do it by myself, Dean.”

“How, by turning human?” asked Dean, trying very hard not to raise his voice. “I don’t think you can do it otherwise.”

“Then I suppose I’ll turn human, yes.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want me around when you go human-mode, Cas?” asked Dean angrily and surprised even himself. He’d had no idea this was annoying him so much until the words had left his mouth.

Cas stopped walking and squinted at him. “Dean, what’s wrong, exactly?”

“Oh, nothing,” mocked Dean, staying still. “Just the fact that every time I’ve asked you the past few months, you always say no, and now that you’re doing it again, you don’t want me there. Why is that?”

“Dean, it isn’t safe for me to –“

“To what? To turn human in front of me? How often do you do it without me being there?”

“To turn human in general,” said Cas coldly. “I want you to rest, and I want to look up some things, so I don’t want to tire you. I’m going to take the books and look for what I want myself. I am just trying to be helpful.”

“I told you, we can go look up whatever you want together,” Dean insisted.

“Well, I don’t want to always rely on you,” said Cas, and Dean blinked, taken aback.

“You _don’t_ always rely on me,” Dean protested. “You do your own things, and I do mine.”

“Books are something I can’t do by myself easily,” Cas explained. “But I _can_ do it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me. I won’t let anyone see me, if that’s your issue.”

“That’s not my issue, Cas!” said Dean. “You used to love it back in Elaurans! You’d said you were gonna miss it like hell when we were here and you wouldn’t be able to turn as much as you wanted to. What changed?”

“I can’t do that anymore, Dean!” snapped Cas. “I don’t know how to be human. I don’t even manage to look human anymore. I’d expose us, or even just embarrass you, and I can’t afford to do that. You have enough real humans in your life, you don’t need a fake one. I’ll stick to being a dragon when I’m around you, and that’s more than enough for me.”

Dean blinked. For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Of all the reasons he could imagine, that wasn’t one of them, not in a million years. “You dumb son of a bitch,” he muttered, and ignored the angry whipping of Cas’ tail. “Did you really think I wanted you to go human-mode because I… because I, what, don’t have enough friends? Cas, I…”

Dean took a deep breath. Feelings were tough; there was a reason he hated them. All his life, living in the same house as his father, they’d never gotten him anywhere pleasant. But to hell with it, Cas was proving to be the opposite case; not talking didn’t mean safety here, it meant danger. And Dean couldn’t have that, not with Cas. He could lose everything else – the _Impala_ , his family, his girl, his sense of duty, - but not Cas, not when he _was_ losing everything else. He sighed.

“Look,” he started. “I enjoy your company either way, all right? I don’t care if you’re a dragon or a human or if you turn into a freaking parrot for all I care. You’re my fucking best friend, man. I really mean it. With everyone else, with Benny, with Charlie… I can go out for drinks and we can punch each other and stuff, and it kills me that I can’t do all those things with you. I feel like I’m neglecting you when I’m drinking with them, and I hate that we’ve got species working against us and we can’t be in each other’s friend groups, like, I’d like to hang out with your friends and have you be around mine, I don’t even know who you’re hanging out with when you’re in the dome, and you don’t talk about anything, and it’s freakin’ killing me. I just wanna talk to you on equal terms once more, all right? That’s it. I’ve missed your fucking face. Don’t you dare think that you’re less important than everyone else. You –“ Dean swallowed hard, unfamiliar with all these feelings. “You’re the most important of all of them, alright? I can’t lose you. I feel like I’m losing you right now, like you’re slipping away from me. I’m trying to get you back, and I don’t think I’m doing it right. me what to do, Cas, for crying out loud. I don’t fucking know what to do to keep you here. I need you, man, don’t bail on me.”

Castiel just stared at him for a while.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was a mistake, I should never have told him, why do I even open my mouth, why do I get so clingy?_ Dean felt the panic drying up his mouth and throat and for a moment lost his sense of time.

Cas opened his mouth. “Dean,” he muttered. “Dean, I –“

“Captain Winchester!”

Dean cursed under his breath, took a breath and turned around to face Becky, who was staring at him nervously.

“What is it?” he asked angrily.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but there’s a message for you at the gates of the city,” she said, tangling and untangling her fingers. “They told me to come and find you as soon as possible.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, just a few seconds, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“What did you hear?” Dean insisted, a bit more aggressively than he intended, but he couldn’t risk it.

“Nothing,” Becky said, looking hurt. “I swear, I didn’t hear anything.”

Dean looked at Castiel, who squinted at her. She gulped, but Cas relaxed. “What kind of message is it?” Cas asked quietly.

“They told me there’s a man asking to see you,” Becky said quickly. “He says his name is Samuel Winchester.”

Dean felt his brain cells exploding inside his brain. “What?” he asked weakly.

“He came with the caravan from the North this morning,” Becky explained, “and he was asking to go to headquarters. Basically, he wanted to see you, he said he’s your brother? I think?”

Dean looked at Cas again, his eyes wide with surprise, and saw his expression reflected on Castiel’s face. “Sam?” he asked, confused. “Is there a chance it’s actually him?”

“Maybe he received your letter,” Castiel suggested.

 _Oh, crap._ Now Dean would be yelled at in person. That sucked. But hey, Sammy was there, that was bound to be good on _some_ levels at least.

“Do you know what the man looks like?” he asked Becky, just to be sure.

“I don’t know, but they told me he’s wearing civilian clothes, and that he’s really, really tall.”

“That sounds like Sam alright,” said Dean. “Okay, I’ll be right there. Can we have a minute before we join you?”

Becky looked surprised, but it was Cas who looked the most scandalised Dean had ever seen him. “Dean, it’s Sam you’re talking about. How can you take your time about going to see him?”

“We were having a talk before,” Dean reminded him.

“Which we will continue soon,” Cas insisted. He sighed at Dean’s disbelieving look. “I promise, Dean, we will. Now let’s not keep your brother waiting.”

Dean sighed and tried to ignore Becky’s curious look. Cas crouched so Dean could climb on his shoulders and he remained down so Becky could also mount. She looked a bit reluctant, but in the end she took Dean’s hand and climbed behind him, holding him a little tighter than was necessary. Dean decided to interpret it as fear due to inexperience; while she had been training since she was a kid, Dean had no idea if she’d ever gotten to actually ride a dragon. Let alone the fact that they were completely depending on Cas not to drop them, because he wasn’t wearing his harness; they hadn’t expected him to have to fly before the training session.

They took off and headed for the city gates. It didn’t take long to reach them. Dean, having left his goggles behind, had to squint to see what was happening down there. There were a couple of carriages in pretty bad condition outside the gates and a few soldiers around them. From the other side of the wall, inside the city’s borders, there were more carts and what looked like a bit of a commotion.

Cas landed outside the gates, making every soldier immediately stand to attention and salute. Wow. Things had changed since the last time they’d come over. Dean dismounted and helped Becky down too before approaching a soldier, as Cas moved a little backwards to the side of the road, remaining mostly inconspicuous – well, as unnoticed as a sixteen-foot tall, white dragon could be, anyway; he and Dean had agreed that it wasn’t very polite when aviators flaunted their awesomeness in other soldiers’ faces, so he stayed quiet as Dean went towards the gate and talked to the guard outside it. 

“Are you Captain Winchester, sir?” the soldier asked.

“Yes, I am,” answered Dean. “They told me my brother is here. Where is he?”

“We have orders to not let strangers in, sir,” the soldier explained, “especially when they claim relations with army members. It might be a trap.”

“Let me be the judge of that, will you, officer?” said Dean sternly, and the man nodded obediently. He went and knocked at the first carriage’s door, calling for the people inside to come out. Dean waited, tapping his foot down nervously. And then a man stepped out of the carriage.

His hair was longer, that was for sure, and his sideburns were larger. He wasn’t dressed in a captain’s uniform, but with civilian clothes, like Becky had said. But he was Sam, he was definitely Sam.

Dean didn’t manage to hold back; he just jumped on his baby brother and hugged him tight, feeling his eyes burning. Gods help him, he’d missed Sam so fucking much.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam murmured against Dean’s shoulder as he hugged back.

“Hey, you freak,” muttered Dean, not letting go. “What the hell are you doing here, huh?” he asked softly, knowing he didn’t sound half as tough as he’d hoped.

“I got your letter,” explained Sam as he let go of Dean, and he smiled. He turned to the soldiers. “Will that be all, gentlemen? Can I go now?”

The guards looked at Dean, who sighed. “Don’t you think we’ve proven he’s my brother?”

“Yessir,” said the soldier who was talking to Dean before, if a bit warily. “We will arrange for your things to be sent to, uh…”

“Auster, private. Since it’s the only working village,” said Dean.

The soldiers nodded and pulled the horses in front of the carriage inside the gates, as Sam stayed behind and smiled widely at Dean. With the corner of his eye, Dean saw Becky’s astonished expression in Sam’s direction, and for a moment wasn’t sure whether he should introduce her or not.

“Sam, this, uh… this is Officer Becky Rosen,” Dean said pointing at Becky. “Becky, this is my brother, Captain Sam Winchester.”

“Delighted,” Becky breathed quickly and practically grabbed Sam’s hand in both of hers, shaking it enthusiastically and – mother of fuck – stroking it a couple of times before Sam pulled it back.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, looking at Becky for a couple of seconds before turning his attention to Dean again. “Actually, that’s not entirely correct. I’m not a captain anymore.”

“What?” Dean asked, surprised. “When did you get promoted again? Way to go!”

“No, I…” Sam chuckled and rubbed his neck. “I didn’t get promoted. I quit the navy, actually.”

Silence reigned for a few moments. All that Dean could think about was that he’d had been in several battles in his life. He had been hit with swords, with clubs, with knives, fists, feet, against walls, masts, decks, floors. He’d been headbumped and kicked in the nuts and the stomach and thrown overboard. He’d fought on rough roads full of debris and nails and broken pieces of wood, and he’d once found himself fallen face first into a field of nettles. What he had never done was gotten hit in the face with a brick while his intestines were sucked out of his body and thrown to the sharks. He did believe, though, that if he had, this is what it would feel like.

“You did _what?”_ he asked, out of breath, not finding anything else to say.

“Don’t worry, the _Impala_ ’s still ours,” said Sam hurriedly. “She’s in the harbour; Dad’s gonna go back to the sea, it seems. He says he’d keep her until you, well, until you ‘give up on that ridiculous aviator business and come back home where you belong’. I wanted to tell him to shove it, but I didn’t. Probably because he’s pretending I don’t exist, anyway, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

“Holy crap, Sam,” groaned Dean. “Why the hell would you leave the navy? Dad can’t take good care of my baby anymore! I trusted you to keep her safe!”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to keep _your_ sorry ass safe instead of your freaking ship,” said Sam. He glanced carefully at Becky, who inhaled and clutched her chest. “I’m gonna tell you everything when we get to, uh…”

“Auster,” Dean reminded him. “Crap, Sam, I don’t even know what to tell command. It’s not that I don’t like seeing you, okay, it’s just –“

“To be honest, I’ve already sent a notice that I’m coming,” Sam informed him and Dean blinked, confused. “I’ve talked to a General Jodie Mills, and she authorised my staying with the regiment.”

“How did you ever manage that?” asked Dean as he headed for the side of the road, where Cas was waiting.

“Long story, I’ll tell you the details soon,” said Sam, and glanced at Cas absentmindedly. “Hey, I didn’t know you could ride another dragon besides –“

Dean looked at his brother just in time to see his eyes widen and his step come to a halt. Cas took a step forward.

“Hello, Sam,” he greeted politely, and if there was a hint of awkwardness in his voice, Dean thought he was the only one to notice. “I hope you are well.”

“Cas, oh my God,” muttered Sam. “Hi. I mean, hello. I mean, wow. I did _not_ see this coming.”

Cas tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

Dean laughed. “Come on, Cas, give him a break,” he said. “He hasn’t seen you since you were half your size. It’s normal for him to be a little bit shocked.”

“A _little bit,_ ” murmured Sam sarcastically, before looking at Cas again. “Sorry, Castiel. You look great, don’t mind me.”

“I don’t,” said Cas simply. “Now get on my back and let’s get going.”

They took off with Dean in the front, Sam behind him and Becky in the back. Cas didn’t complain or show any annoyance at the extra weight, but Dean thought Cas wasn’t the most uncomfortable anyway; Becky’s pleased little sounds could be heard even at the front.

As it turned out, Michael was already aware that Sam was coming, and did not object at all; in fact, he seemed to be under the impression that Sam was staying for good. Dean didn’t participate much in the discussion, which was typically short and ended with Sam getting a room next to Dean, with his stuff being brought to him by carriage. When the brothers got to their rooms, Sam walked into his, Dean following for further for further explanations; Cas excused himself, leaving them some space.

Sam, apparently, had hated being in the navy ever since Dean left. Of course, that wasn’t news; he never had exactly enjoyed being a navy man. He had thought about leaving lots of times, since Dean was the only reason powerful enough to keep him there, but he had never gotten a reason to leave stronger than his desire to keep Dean’s ship safe. With Dean’s letter, everything changed. He couldn’t let his own brother face such a danger alone, he said, plus Dean had a fuckload of information to give Sam about what he’d been doing with Cas. Sam demanded an explanation, and informed Dean that he could actually demand it now. As it appeared, Sam had applied to the Aviators’ Order to join, not as a soldier this time, a job that he hated, but as a scholar, a man of letters; a person to provide information and advice on dragons and tactics. It was a new idea, but General Mills had loved it, and so created the job on the spot. So Sam had resigned right before the _Impala_ sailed, taken every book he could from Bobby, given all his remaining money to the caravan leaving for the capital right away, and come to Auster.

Dean couldn’t complain. Being here with Cas and having Sam aboard? That was more than he could have asked for in his entire life.

It was already two in the afternoon when Sam settled down in his room and had finished his story, and Dean might have been excited, but he was also extremely tired. Sam insisted they talk about the matter of Cas and the possible plots and poisonings and everything, but there was no chance in hell that Dean could manage. They made some small talk instead, just to be sure that they hadn’t forgotten how to act around each other. Sam informed Dean that Ruby, the girl he had been talking to, had stopped writing, and Dean told Sam that he also hadn’t seen some action in a while. The only appropriate answer both of them came up with was a friendly pat on the shoulder and a few teasing, not-so-encouraging words. Dean promised Sam that they’d talk about the important things later that night, and went to bed until Michael called them for the rest of the training.

Dean didn’t get much rest, but at least he was still functional when he woke up from his nap. He headed for the arena with Sam on his heels, who brought some papers with him and stayed on one side of the arena, taking notes. Dean introduced him to everyone and managed to hide his smile when his little brother dropped his pencil a couple of times while talking to Jess and Gabriel.

The training wasn’t much harder or easier than usual, but Dean felt strange regardless; he kept looking in Sam’s general direction not consciously trying to impress him, but proud of what he’d learnt to do during those few months they’d been apart. A tiny part of him remembered that, if things had gone according to plan, now it would be Sam on Cas’ back, and Dean… well, Dean wouldn’t be exactly in Sam’s place because he could never become a scholar in a million years, but he’d probably be somewhere in the brig of the _Impala_ , drowning his sorrows inside a bottle and wallowing in self-pity. He _supposed_ things were better the way they were now, and wondered if there was a small, subconscious part of Cas that had known what would happen and had made sure it didn’t by choosing Dean instead of Sam. Dean figured he wouldn’t ever find out.

The training session didn’t stop until midnight. Michael, to everyone’s surprise, said they wouldn’t start at seven the next morning, as they usually did, but he’d let them get some more sleep instead, and start at nine. He did warn them that after tomorrow the training would go on as usual, but all Dean could hear was a blessed choir singing about two more hours of sleep that night.

Of course, it was never meant to be that easy.

Sam approached Dean as he was taking the harness off of Cas, and tapped his shoulder.

“Hey,” Sam called, putting his papers under his arm and his pencil in a breast pocket. “Can we talk? All three of us.”

Dean guessed there was no escaping this. “Okay, sure,” he muttered. “Cas, are you okay with this?”

Cas squinted. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Lots of stuff,” answered Sam vaguely. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Dean sighed, nodded and started walking towards the forest, as usual, hoping he hadn’t actually pulled himself into the biggest pile of shit imaginable.


	13. Chapter 13

They headed for the woods silently. Dean’s head was a mess; he really wanted to be done with all this talking, no matter if it was coming from Cas or Sam. He wanted to know what was in their minds, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. His first instinct when somebody said they needed to talk to him was to freak out about what he had done to disappoint them. Cas had never finished what he wanted to say, and Dean had opened up to him like he hadn’t to anyone in a long time; Sam was meant to scold him for what he’d done.

Generally, Dean thought, if this turned out to be a picnic, he’d be damned to hell.

They stopped by the river, at about the location where Dean had kissed Lisa a few days back. For some reason, that made him really uncomfortable. He didn’t mind Sam being there, it was all about Cas; he still felt like he betrayed him by kissing Lisa, which was of course ridiculous. If dragons were allowed to have relationships, then aviators had the right too, and damn it, Dean hadn’t seen anyone else in the regiment being so attached to their dragons as to not be able to have a one-night-stand or a full-on relationship.

Dean had to force his mind to stop wandering when Cas sat down and Sam sighed deeply. Dean guessed his brother was trying to get started and had no idea how.

“So,” Sam started hesitantly, “I don’t even know where to start.”

Yep, way to go, big brother Dean. He still knew Sam inside and out.

“Pick a subject, Sammy.” Dean said. “There’s a shitton of them.”

“Okay, then, poisoning,” Sam suggested without missing a beat. “What the hell?”

“You know, I really admire your scientific language, Sammy, it makes me feel illiterate.”

Good, Sam hadn’t lost his ability to bitchface. “I’m serious, Dean. You send me a letter saying your life is in danger, and then you’re surprised I come over. I’m freaked out.”

“You looked pretty calm to me the rest of the day,” Dean pointed out.

“Yes, because I have self-control,” said Sam. “What if somebody heard? I needed to play cool.”

 _Touché_. “Okay, then. What do you wanna know?”

“Well, everything,” said Sam. “What happened, exactly? Who do you think did it?”

“I don’t have much to tell that I haven’t already told you,” answered Dean. “I was dizzy and faint and all that crap all day when we went to the rescue mission. Nobody else was feeling bad. If somebody wanted to get rid of me, for whatever reason, it would be the best chance. If my headache caused me to be careless and got me killed while we were inside a freaking pyramid saving hostages, nobody would question the conditions of my death.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sam agreed. “Haven’t you searched for who it might have been?”

“That’s the whole point,” said Dean, “they don’t believe me. Cas and Anna – you saw Anna, the red one – they think I was poisoned. I’d mostly say it was food poisoning or some shit if they hadn’t told me. And the rest of the regiment – most importantly, Michael – they all believe it was, well, _food poisoning or some shit._ I can’t persuade them.”

“But who do you think might have done it?” Sam insisted. “Who would have reasons to want you dead?”

“Ugh, I don’t kno,w Sammy”, Dean said. “I’m starting to believe that it was nothing myself. Meg is fresh meat, straight from Elavorn, but why would she target _me_ specifically? Cas has been really good to her, he was the only one to listen to her when she arrived.”

“Then maybe she wanted you out of the way to get to Cas?” suggested Sam, sounding confused, as he sat down by the riverbank, under Castiel’s constant stare.

“She’s already a rider, Sam,” Cas spoke for the first time since they got there. “Why would she want to get close to me?”

“Maybe she’s got a bad relationship with her own dragon,” Sam suggested again, “and she wants a new one.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Dean, sitting down by Sam’s side. “A rider’s bond with their dragon has to be worked on, it’s not like you can murder the aviator and get the dragon as a prize. And dragons get to pick their rider, not the other way round. We knew that from the beginning, right? Cas is exhibit A. And Gabriel had been working on getting his own rider for months, if not years, until he found someone.”

“But Gabriel’s a Royal,” said Sam. “Is there a chance Meg thinks that Cas, as an Angel, will be less stubborn and more accepting of a new rider? Besides, maybe the rider does pick the dragon in Elavorn.”

“What about Lilith, then?” asked Cas. “Assuming that getting to me was Meg’s dark purpose, what would happen of Lilith? Surely Meg wouldn’t leave her for another.”

“You never know,” said Sam. “It’s a possible motive. Who else do you suspect, if not the mystery girl from Elavorn?”

“I don’t know,” Dean groaned. “Bela doesn’t like me, and Gordon pretty much hates me, but poisoning me? It doesn’t sound right.”

“Maybe it was an accident,” said Sam. “Maybe a poison-spitting dragon sneezed inside the soup or something. You do have an Anthrax in the regiment, right?”

“Yes, Lilith,” Dean reminded him. “And I really think this is out of the question.”

“Do you completely scratch out any possibility of an outsider?”

Dean sighed. “Sammy, I’ve thought about this a million times over. Why would an Elavorni spy figure out where we were camping and then sneak into our camp and poison only one of us, instead of raising an alarm? What is the possible tactic to explain that?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just out of ideas.”

“Yeah, welcome to the club.”

“What do you think, Cas?” asked Sam and Dean looked up.

Castiel thought about it for a moment. “I think that there are many things we do not understand yet,” he said carefully. “Dean was always the one to challenge the norms of the army. He was the one to come late to join their ways, the one who wasn’t raised in their beliefs and principles, and therefore the one to question them the most. I was also brought from the outside, spent my entire first month on a ship, getting completely different experiences than the ones the army has in mind for dragons. It would be natural if we weren’t welcome here, or if they were suspicious towards one or both of us.”

“Yes, but what about the poisoning?”

“I believe we shouldn’t rule out the possibility of the person responsible for this being someone from outside the regiment, but inside the army,” said Cas. “Dean has been the one asking questions and demanding action to be taken, which is clearly something the heads of the army or maybe even the Crown itself do not want to happen, for whatever reason. Maybe there is a bigger plan, some kind of surprise action that we haven’t been informed for yet, and they wanted us to stay low until we got news. Of course, sacrificing people on whatever purpose or keeping them as prisoners on the progress is unethical, and Dean was the one to point it out. There might be many who have heard of Dean’s defying orders, and we might have messed with the Crown or the army’s plans. So yes, I do believe we might have made enemies we don’t know about.”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Castiel’s theory sounded scarily probable.

“So,” started Dean, “what you’re saying is that the Crown has a secret plan that we don’t know of?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“Like what?” asked Sam, confused. “Do you mean like, a plan where a very secret attack is planned out and is announced to the aviators the day right before it’s about to happen, or not wanting us to fight at all?”

“Why would they not want to fight at all?” asked Dean. “It’s still a war, isn’t it?”

“Is it, though?” Sam asked. “There have been no attacks for a while in the Navy, but they’re still recruiting members. Now you tell me that the same thing is happening here. Either a huge battle is being planned out, or the war is over and they’re not telling us.”

“But why wouldn’t they tell us?” Dean insisted. “In either case?”

“I have no idea, I’m just as lost as you are,” Sam sighed. “At least now, as a scholar, I’ll be allowed in the Central Library. I can look up stuff.”

“What, you’re gonna look up everything under ‘plots of the Crown’? Gimme a break, Sammy.”

“Well, we’ve got to start somewhere,” said Sam stubbornly.

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Okay, go look stuff up.”

“And while I’m at it,” Sam said innocently and Dean immediately knew what was coming, “I might have to look up under ‘stupid decisions that involve turning a dragon into a human just for laughs and how the freaking hell do I do and undo it’, what d’ya think?”

Dean didn’t have to be looking at Cas to know that his eyes widened in surprise. He felt the dragon’s look pierce him and made a grimace, preparing for what was coming.

“You told him?” snapped Cas.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said apologetically. “I was worried about you, and I thought –“

“This was something between you and me. Why would you ever tell?”

“Are you kidding me?” snapped Dean. “At first you were pissed at me for not telling Sam when he was asking about you back in Elaurans and now you say this was something personal? Make up your mind, will you?”

“I thought we established this was between you and me when you decided nobody could see me in human form and when you gave Sam false information about me back then,” Cas insisted. “Either keep your word or tell me not to expect you to. _Why_ did you tell?”

“Because I’m worried about you, Cas!” exclaimed Dean. “All these things we never talk about, they’re killing me, man! I’ve seen you trying to breathe gas or fire or whatever it is you might be able to spit out, and I’ve seen the look on your face when you don’t manage. You gained some freaky abilities ever since you got some blood of mine inside you, and we’ve been able to listen to each other’s thoughts, and we never question it, because there’s no possible answer we can give, so we just leave it be. I can’t do that anymore!”

Dean could see and hear angry clouds of Cas’ hot breath forming in front of him, and ignored the raging blue fire inside Cas’ eyes. He wouldn’t back down, not this time; they’d been together for long enough to finally drop every mask and be honest with each other about everything.

“Why hadn’t you told me any of these before?” asked Castiel quietly. “Why wait until now to tell me all these things?”

“Because I’m tired, Cas,” sighed Dean. “I’m tired of having to guess everything. I wanna be okay with you, and I wanna be loyal to the regiment too, and I wanna keep my word, what we promised each other, and help end this war. And now I’ve got a million dead ends ahead of me and the only thing I can do is start bringing them down. I wanna figure out what’s happening with you first, and then give a shot on everything else,”

“I hardly think my well-being is more important than the army’s plans, Dean.”

“To me, it is,” Dean insisted, feeling his cheeks burn. Yes, he wasn’t the one to express so many emotions at the same time, especially not to someone who wasn’t Sam, and _especially_ with Sam present, but the hell with it. He clenched his jaw stubbornly as Cas stared at him.

Eventually, Cas averted his eyes and Dean knew he had won. He wondered for a moment how Cas could give such a low value to himself, but then he guessed, Cas probably had a good teacher, and felt the need to slap himself in the face.

“Okay,” Cas said quietly and looked at Sam. “What do you need to know?”

Sam looked a bit taken aback at the sudden attention, but soon snapped out of it. “First of all, I wanna know how on earth you guys thought this would be a good idea,” he said. “What kind of fucked up story did you get the idea from?”

Dean didn’t have to try and touch Cas’ mind to realise the dragon was getting pissed, but Cas kept his cool.

“It’s in one of those books I used to read you from, Sammy,” explained Dean. “Remember the story with the elven warrior who went to live with the dragoness and made a blood vow with her, so she could turn into an elf and he got some of her powers? That’s the one.”

“Holy shit, you guys,” Sam groaned. “That’s a freaking metaphor! The warrior that is torn between what he’s brought up to think it’s right, and what he wants, which is dangerous for him, but he ignores it and follows his dreams. It’s an analogy about couples who turn into each other and cling on one another when all they have to build their relationship on is the bad decision that brought them together in the first place. And you actually copied them? What did you even vow to do?”

“Well, we didn’t,” said Dean, choosing to ignore the previous analysis. “We just sort of made small cuts on our hands and pressed them together.” Damn, even talking about it made Dean feel extremely embarrassed.

“Lemme see,” Sam demanded and Dean gave him his palm, with the small silver line still visible. Sam turned Dean’s hand over and looked at it from several angles, then let it go. “It doesn’t look infected or anything,” he commented.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course it doesn’t, you dumbass,” he said. “It’s been done for months; before we even left Elaurans.”

“So if you didn’t swear on anything, what was the purpose of this?” asked Sam, confused.

“We didn’t need to say out loud what we meant,” Cas said calmly. “It’s a vow that means devotion and understanding, it doesn’t need to be said.”

“Cas, no offence, but you guys have been devoted to each other from the very beginning,” Sam pointed out. “You chose him specifically and he gave up everything for you. Why would you need to put your blood inside each other for that to be valid?”

“Because the stories talked about the ones who vowed getting stronger through each other,” Cas said. “We can communicate with our thoughts. We _have_ gotten stronger.”

“But at what cost?” asked Sam desperately. “I have never heard of any dragon and his aviator being able to do that before. What if the whole plan backfires, huh? What if there are side-effects that you don’t know about yet?”

“Like what?” asked Castiel.

“Like the fact that you can’t breathe gas,” Sam said. “You should have been able to do that since a couple of months back.”

“So do you believe Dean took that away from me?”

Dean blinked. He’d never thought of that. He stared back at Cas and Sam’s similar confused expressions. “Hey, I ain’t tryin’ to spit any fumes, thanks very much.”

“Maybe you should try, though”, said Sam thoughtfully. “Maybe you did absorb that.”

“No fucking way in hell,” Dean stated, blushing only at the possibility of having to hiss and cough in front of Cas and Sam as they took notes or whatever they were planning on doing.

“I won’t try to convince you now, but this isn’t over,” threatened Sam before turning back to Cas. “So forget about breathing gas, all right? Why are you still growing?”

Cas looked taken aback. “What does that have to do with me sharing Dean’s blood?”

“Because if you’ve absorbed the growth cycle of a human, we’re doomed,” explained Sam. “If you keep getting bigger until you’re in your teens, do you even realise the size we’re talking about?”

Castiel opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find anything to say. Dean realised that possibility had never crossed Cas’ mind. The dragon looked at him.

“Dean?” he called, his voice full of worry. “Do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean answered. “I hope not.”

“Look, we can always hope there’s a logical explanation about this,” said Sam, probably trying to calm them down. “The truth is, Cas doesn’t look much like an Angel anymore, right?”

Cas squinted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you looked at other Angels lately?” asked Sam. “You’re pretty different from Anna and Samandriel, so I’m thinking, maybe you’re some kind of half-breed? Which could actually explain why we had so much trouble categorising you at first. Let’s not panic about your size until you’re fully mature and have developed all your secondary characteristics, maybe then we can find out if you’ve got a second breed inside you.”

Cas looked at Dean. “Can this be?” he asked. Dean could only shrug. His temples were throbbing by now.

They all remained silent for a while, all of them too exhausted to go on. But Dean knew something was coming.

“So, let me ask you something,” started Sam and Dean smiled. He could feel his brother’s excitement in the air; no matter how logical Sam was, he was, above all, a giant geek. Dean looked at him, giving him permission to go on, and Sam looked at Cas. “Can you really turn human?”

Castiel blinked. “Yes, of course. I thought Dean told you about it.”

“Yes, he did, but… I don’t know, it’s hard to believe.”

“What do you want, Sammy, a demonstration?” asked Dean. “We’re telling you it happens.”

“Yes, but _how?”_ Sam insisted. “Scientifically speaking, Castiel’s human form should be like, twenty feet tall. Have you _seen_ it happen?”

“Of course I have, Sammy, I took him to Mom’s garden party and nobody noticed him!” said Dean. “He just looks like a normal teenager, he’s all sorts of short and scrawny and human, and his eyes are creepy because they don’t change at all, and he’s got leftover scales on him. That’s all.” Dean recalled a recent conversation. “And apparently, the latest times, he’s kind of less human because he keeps his wings.”

Castiel looked a bit embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything. On the contrary, Sam had done a complete turn from pissed to interested, and he was now staring at Cas carefully.

“Yes, I guess he does keep them,” he muttered thoughtfully. “I mean, mass can’t change, right? So how on earth do you fit thirty feet of dragon in a small human body? I’d expect his human form to be a giant, to be honest, and maybe not being fully human, you know? Like, it wouldn’t be weird if he kept any extra appendages, like his wings or his tail.”

“Excuse me –“ Castiel started, but Dean cut him off.

“But he doesn’t keep them, Sammy, he never did. He used to look like a normal kid. Maybe it’s a matter of self-control, or because he’s stayed a dragon for so long?”

“Dean –“

“Or maybe it was a matter of age,” Sam suggested, ignoring Castiel. “He was really young then, maybe it was easier for him to push all his mass into a small body, and now that he’s thrice his size he can’t do it anymore. What did he look like, exactly?”

“Well, he was –“

**_“Enough!”_ **

Cas’ voice boomed around them, making Dean and Sam alike to stop out cold and stare at Cas with their eyes wide in surprise. Castiel was breathing heavily, the anger in his eyes calming slowly before he spoke again.

“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” he demanded calmly. “Anything you want to know, Sam, I can show you.”

Sam blinked. “Really?” he asked. “I thought you didn’t want people to see you turn human.”

“I never said that.” said Cas. “I’m just being careful and try not to abuse my ability.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Can I see, then?”

Dean thought Sam sounded like a kid given a new sledge on a snow day, but Castiel simply nodded and took a couple of steps back. Dean tapped Sam’s shoulder.

“Look away, Sammy, you really don’t wanna see this happening.”

“Or so you think,” said Sam and kept his eyes on Cas. Dean sighed and did the same; he wasn’t gonna be less of a man than his brother and look away.

Castiel’s bones cracked, as usual, and Dean shivered; he hated that sound. With every violent crack, Cas seemed to shrink down. His tail shrank and then turned to silver dust before it disappeared. His scales fell from his skin, leaving it smooth, and evaporated before they reached the ground. His neck’s vertebrae shrank one by one, and his face shortened into a much rounder skull. His wings flapped frantically as they broke and arranged themselves on a much smaller back. He took a couple of steps back to find his balance as the distance between his feet changed, and for a moment he looked monstrous, half-human, half-reptile. He stumbled, still clawed, half-covered in scales and twice the size of a normal human, with an angled face on a bald skull full of spikes and teeth larger than his mouth. Dean felt a clutch in his heart; what if they’d put too much pressure on him? What if he remained like this? Cas looked at himself and Dean’s heart stopped.

Cas grunted in annoyance and Dean saw his imaginary tail whip angrily. For a moment, Cas froze; then he clapped his hands together, and Dean could only stare with his mouth gawping as a bright light erupted from Cas’ fingers, swallowing him whole. A couple of seconds later, the light was gone, and all that was left was a normally shaped person, panting, just where the half-breed monster had been standing before.

Dean blinked several times, trying to adjust to the lighting changes, and squinted to take a better look at Cas. Cas, in response, took a few steps forward and stood in front of him, without saying a word.

During the several months that Dean had spent in the world of aviators, he had missed seeing the human version of Cas more than many things. He was sure he remembered everything about him; exactly how much shorter than him he was, how he could see his ribcage when he stretched, the random pattern of stray scales on his shoulders, his smooth, still childish face. He had looked like a little brother, and Dean had loved that.

Only now Dean was desperately trying to see where Cas, _his_ Cas, was hiding under the face of the man he was seeing in front of him. Dean didn’t know why he was surprised. Since Cas had matured as a dragon, it was only normal that his human form had changed too; Dean had just never thought about it.

The first thing that was for certain was that he couldn’t call Cas a boy anymore, not a kid, not even a teenager; that was clearly the figure of a man standing there.  He wasn’t much shorter than Dean, only a couple of inches, maybe. His skin was tanned, which was normal, Dean forced himself to think, because Cas spent his entire time under the sun, but it still seemed strange to Dean that the scales hadn’t stopped the tanning underneath. Cas’ shoulders were much wider than Dean remembered, his muscles bigger, his legs stronger, the dark curly hair between his legs and on his lower abdomen brining to mind something sexual for the first time since Dean had laid eyes on him. The scales on Cas’ shoulders were still there, forming a silver pattern that went all the way down to his strong forearms, with a few spots of white on his long fingers, no longer clawed, creating an intense contrast with his skin; up on his shoulders and on his neck, the shapes went blue, and Dean guessed they would continue down to his back, as they did when he was dragon-formed. He had the same silver and blue lines and dots on his thighs and knees, and a few very small ones on his chest. On his back, his wings were stubbornly still there, folded against him, the silver feathers looking softer and the blue patterns almost glowing.

Dean gulped before he dared look at Cas’ face.

Castiel’s hair looked darker, and it was longer than last time, still a tangled mess. His jaw had squared out and was shadowed by stubble that was almost a beard. His lips were pale and a little chapped and almost suggestively half-open. Dean took a shaky breath; Cas’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and Dean licked his lips before his brain realised what he was doing. He looked at Cas’ eyes and his breathing stopped; the pupils were round, human, but the blue around them was the same magical colour Dean was used to.

And, for fuck’s sake, what was happening inside Dean’s pants was just _wrong_.

“Holy fuck,” muttered Sam before Dean managed to comprehend the situation and, unable to stop staring at Cas, Dean heard his brother not as much sitting down as dropping himself on the ground. He tried very hard to blink and avert his eyes, and then look at Sam.

Cas took a couple of steps towards Sam and offered his hand. Sam hesitated, let his hand hover for a second, and gave it to Cas, who pulled him up effortlessly. Dean noticed Sam blatantly staring every inch of Cas’ body – well, except maybe a certain part. Cas didn’t look uncomfortable, but Dean most definitely did, even though he couldn’t explain why. No, the hopefully not-so-obvious bulge in his pants wasn’t a reason, it was just because it had been a while since he had gotten some, and Cas’ human form was undeniably smoking _hot_. Dean hadn’t had the hots for another guy for a long time, but Cas wasn’t another guy, he reminded himself, he was a freaking _dragon_ who disguised himself as a human, and no matter how hot he’d turned out to be, Dean’s dick had a lot to answer for.

Castiel looked at them both before he looked like he suddenly remembered something, and covered himself with the tip of his wing – which was silvery and soft-looking and coloured with white and blue on silver and Dean just wanted to shove himself inside it and hug it and just _touch_ and – _no_. No, fuck to the no; that was a dangerous path which Dean should avoid like hell. Cas didn’t looked particularly embarrassed, but he kind-of smiled apologetically, and Dean thought his heart must have missed a beat – which was probably transferred to his cock, much less poetically.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, and oh, _God_ – “I forgot about clothes. Do you mind if I don’t wear any?” –oh fucking _God_ , his voice was so different. It was deep and throaty as always, but you kind of expected that from a sixteen foot tall dragon. When you were dealing with a guy in his… late twenties, early thirties, maybe? who was about ten feet shorter than said dragon, was ripped and tanned and had those gorgeous eyes and a pair of fucking wings on his back and walked around freaking naked, flaunting _that_ _thing between his legs_ in Dean’s face, he should have at least the decency to sound like an old hag cursing the king’s firstborn, or something. That voice just wasn’t _fair_.

Somewhere in the distance, Sam asked “Aren’t you cold, Cas? It’s December tomorrow, it’s freezing.”

 _Okay,_ focus _, Winchester._

Dean snapped himself out of it in time to see Cas shaking his head. “No, I’m not cold,” he said, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from thinking _nah, of course not, you’re the exact fucking opposite_. He hoped to hell that Cas didn’t have his Dean channel open, but he didn’t dare check. He was vaguely aware of Sam undressing and giving Cas at least the long tunic he was wearing under all his warm layers of clothes, and ripping it in the back so Cas’ wings would go through, before dressing himself again.

Dean shook the surprise of, sort of, and looked around him to find Sam and Cas alike already sat down on logs close to the riverbank. He hurried close to them, trying to ignore the almost painful throbbing in his pants that didn’t seem like it wanted to go away.

“So, Cas, uh…” stared Dean and cleared his throat. Cas looked at him and man, this was a bad idea. “You, uh, you do look pretty different, don’t you?”

Cas looked down at himself as though he wanted to see what Dean was talking about, and shrugged. “I look different as a dragon too,” he pointed out, “at least since I last turned human. I’ve changed in both forms, it makes sense.”

“Are you okay with that?” Dean asked, not knowing exactly why. Cas shrugged again.

“Come on now,” Sam exploded from the other log. “Is this what you’re worried about? I mean seriously, do you even realise what just happened?”

And so, shock period was over. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Yeah, Sammy,” he said, “I’m pretty sure I know what happened, since you know, I’ve actually watched it happen before.”

“But this is practically impossible,” said Sam, still astonished.

“Dude, you freaking watched it happen. Hell, _I_ freaking watched it happen and I don’t do that shit, it’s too creepy. How can you still have doubts?”

“Where did all the mass go?” asked Sam, his elbows rested on his knees helplessly. “How can this even happen?”

“Come on, Sammy, you don’t actually doubt that dragons can do awesome things, do you?” asked Dean wearily.

“It’s not ‘dragons’ who do awesome things in general, Dean, it’s _Cas!”_ exclaimed Sam. “There’s no chance this has come out of a blood vow, otherwise you’d be able to turn into a dragon too!”

“Well, I don’t think humans are made to turn into dragons, Sammy,” said Dean dismissively.

“And vice versa. But it did happen,” Sam pointed out. “Have you thought about the abilities you might have gained?”

“I can communicate with Cas without speaking,” Dean suggested, “but that’s it.”

Sam chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re saying ‘that’s it’ as if it is a simple thing.”

“Well, what can I say? That’s it. It happened when we’d just taken the vow or whatever you wanna call it, and we’ve been able to turn it on and off again ever since. Unless Cas is like a special kind of telepathic dragon who came back from the dawn of time or something, I see no other explanation.”

“Well, maybe he is,” suggested Sam.

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then manned up and looked at Cas, who shrugged again, questioningly.

“By the way, Cas,” said Dean, “what was that light thing?”

“I don’t know,” answered Cas, and damn it, why did Dean continue asking him things? All he wanted was to _not_ hear that voice again until a certain part of him had settled down. “It did happen last time in the river, but it had never happened before.”

“Wait,” said Sam, “and you say you didn’t keep your wings before the last time? Maybe the light and your wings are somehow connected.”

“You think?” asked Dean curiously.

“I don’t know, I’m just guessing,” admitted Sam. “I’ve been studying dragons all my life and I’ve never seen anything like this, Dean. I’m just trying to figure out what’s happening. And what I think is happening, is that Cas isn’t a usual kind of dragon.”

“But the blood vow – “

“Yeah, about that… I don’t really believe that worked, Dean.”

Dean sighed. He’d really hoped that he’d been the one to give Cas his special abilities, or well, at least that he’d had played a small part in Cas’ awesomeness. Which, damn it, was just too much for him.

“So, what are you saying?” asked Castiel hesitantly. “That I’m some kind of dragon that hasn’t even been discovered yet?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” said Sam. “Does that bother you?”

“No, I’ve thought about it too,” Cas admitted and Sam blinked. “I looked up information about the Seglaag but it didn’t really match.”

“Seglaag?” asked Sam in disbelief. “But those are just a legend.”

“I know. I had to give a chance to the possibility of them not being one, though.”

“And you say you don’t match the descriptions?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“Are we seriously talking about prophecy stuff?” asked Dean. “Seglags, or whatever they’re called, are just desperate attempts of the angel-believing people to keep their chin up and not despair during times of war. It’s easy to have someone to come and get you out of the shit so you don’t have to man up and do it yourself”.

“You’re being too strict,” Sam scolded. “This isn’t exactly the legend of the Seglaag, anyway. The story says that they will come to earth, sent by the angels in a time of great danger, the Seglaag – it doesn’t have a plural, actually – are basically dragons with the souls of angels, who don’t have a stable form between their two natures. They’re children of two worlds, created to bring balance and peace. Even their name comes from the words _segnel_ , which is the ancient celestial word for angel, and _laagar_ , which means _dragon_. So _Seglaag_ means _angelic dragon_ ”.

Dean frowned. “That’s not exactly the story that I’ve heard.”

Sam waved his hand dismissively. “There are many variations of the same story, but the point is the same. _‘The angelic dragons will save the world from despair and bring peace’_. The details can change as much as you want.”

“So… what you’re saying is that Angel dragons are basically Seglaags - _Seglaag?_ ” asked Dean in disbelief.

“No, of course not,” said Sam. “Angel dragons are named this way because they make good guardians. Locharts usually make good guardians too, but they don’t have feathery wings to add to their name.”

“Wait,” Castiel interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If the legend of the Seglaag isn’t the same in every version, how do we know what the hybrids look like?”

Dean groaned. “Cas, you’re not still thinking about being one, are you?”

“Dean, we’ve been wondering about my nature before I was born,” said Cas, sounding embarrassed to even think of being some kind of a legend. “I just want to rule out every possibility before I move on to the next one.”

Dean looked at Sam desperately, hoping for some logic, but Sam looked lost in thought too. “To be honest,” he started, “there is a chance the descriptions are wrong at some points. I mean, you did look like a sort of hybrid before, right? Before you went full human – well, sort of – you did look like a combination of –“

“Yes, of human and dragon,” Dean interrupted, “because he’s a dragon trying to turn human.”

“Yes, but Dean,” Sam said quietly, “Cas does look more angel than human, doesn’t he?”

Dean stared at Castiel; Cas didn’t react. Yes, sure, the wings weren’t very human-like, but that was just a leftover from his dragon form. And the scales on his body, well, that wasn’t particularly angelic, that was all dragon stuff. And if he had a hard time changing from one form to the other, well, that was just because it had been a long time since he had tried anything like that. It just couldn’t be.

Could it?

Dean opened his mouth to express some kind of denial, but Cas suddenly gave him a warning look. Dean felt the familiar pressure on his mind and opened up.

_Cas? Do you think you’re half-angel?_

_Forget about that, we have bigger problems._

_What is it?_

_Behind you, in the trees. We’re being watched._

_What!?_

_There’s someone there. I smell someone. A human male and a dragon._

_Who are they?_

_I don’t know. My senses don’t work in their full potential when I’m in this form. But we need to get them, and soon. Act naturally, they mustn’t know we’re on to them._

_Do you think they’ve seen you turning?_

_Maybe. I’m going to check on them._

Dean nodded slightly, and looked at Sam, who frowned at him.

“What are you guys doing?” asked Sam.

“I need to, uh…” started Cas, “to satisfy a personal need. I’ll be right back.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as Castiel spread his wings and gave them a subtle beat, sending himself up on the air. Dean looked up after him, looked at Sam and made a very subtle move with his hand, showing him where Cas was guessing the intruders were.

Then the horrific cracking sounds Dean knew too well were heard again from above, and a light blinded them for a second, and then Dean heard a screech he recognised as Castiel’s and branches breaking and panicked shuffling and running sounds and scared, angry yelling from between the trees. Before he knew it, he and Sam were both standing up and the trees beside the empty space by the riverbank were almost broken during – holy shit – Gordon and Samandriel’s attempt to pass through, hunted by a raging dragon-formed Castiel flapping his wings at them.

“Shit,” Dean muttered as Gordon turned to look at him, and almost took a step backwards at the sight of the pure hatred in the other man’s eyes. Samandriel, on the contrary, looked like he wanted to hide behind Gordon. Damn it all. If it was anyone else spying on them, anyone, they might have gotten away with it. Now they were screwed.

“What the hell are you doing here, Gordon?” spat Dean, trying to keep his cool.

“You’re going down, Winchester,” hissed Gordon. “You and your weird brother and your freak of a dragon. No prophecy’s gonna save you.”

“Why did you follow us?” demanded Cas.

“I don’t have to –“

“Why did you follow us?” Castiel repeated. Gordon spat on Cas’ feet, and Castiel roared and hit the ground with his front paws, making the water in the river ripple.

“ _Answer me!”_

“I followed the light,” Gordon said quickly, and fuck, he was afraid of Cas. “I saw the freaky lightning and I came to see what it was. And thank the Gods I came over to find out what you dicks have been doing.”

“Castiel,” muttered Samandriel, “Castiel, I swear, I didn’t –“

“Shut up, Samandriel,” ordered Gordon and Dean saw Cas’ tail whip the air angrily behind him.

“You had no fucking right to come spy on us, Gordon!” growled Dean.

“Oh, I think I did, you fucking traitor!” spat Gordon and Sam had to grab Dean’s arm to stop him from punching Gordon in the face. “You’re hiding things from the army! You were the one who brought the Elavorni bitch here! You even got this freak from an Elavorni ship, didn’t you? You’ve sold yourself to them!”

“Holy fuck, Gordon, get your head out of your ass!” yelled Dean. “Why would I ever –“

“I know this is a hopeless fight, but at least I had the dignity to stay with my own, you fucker!” shouted Gordon. “I’m gonna kill you before you damn us all to hell!” and he pulled out his sword.

Fuck. Dean was unarmed, and so was Sam. But Castiel didn’t need any weapons, and he stood in front of Gordon, snorting angrily, his wings a threatening arc above his head. “Put your sword back into its sheath, Lieutenant,” he ordered calmly. “That’s an order.”

“By who, _you?”_ sneered Gordon. “You ain’t a captain, you freak. You ain’t even a proper dragon. I don’t know what kind of an abomination you are, but you are going down along with your rider.”

“Shut your mouth,” snapped Sam. “You spy on us, threaten us, and then refuse to obey orders? You have nothing on us! Just put your sword back and –“

“Shut the hell up,” fumed Gordon and that was it, Dean knew there was gonna be blood tonight.

“Lieutenant,” called Dean, his voice shaky with anger. “This is your last chance. Put your sword back, apologise to Samandriel for treating him like shit, go back to your lodgings and we’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Dean knew this wouldn’t be the chance. He knew that Gordon was too angry, too bitter; there was no way in hell that he’d let it go. But he had to give him one last chance.

“Fuck you,” spat Gordon and Dean knew it was on.

“You chose it, Gordon,” Dean said. “You want a fight? You’ll have it. I wanna see how you’re gonna beat all three of us single-handedly.”

“There’s only two of you, you fucktard,” said Gordon. “You really think Samandriel’s gonna sit there looking?”

Dean had never seen such a surprised expression as the one on Samandriel’s face. “What?” muttered the small dragon.

“Don’t just stand there,” ordered Gordon and pointed at Castiel. “Attack him!”

Castiel and Sam both had frozen, and Dean couldn’t blame them; they were simply mirroring Samandriel.

“No,” Samandriel said, shaking his head helplessly. “I won’t do that, Gordon, please.”

“Yes you will, you useless reptile,” hissed Gordon and pulled out another sword from a second sheath, pointing it at Samandriel. Castiel growled, but Gordon paid no heed. “I’ve had enough of your ridiculous gas-breathing and tedious flying about. It’s time to show me what use you have for these claws and teeth you were given by whatever idiot God that made you.”

“Gordon, that’s enough,” Sam shouted.

“Samandriel, don’t mind him,” said Castiel as calmly as he could. “You don’t have to do anything, you owe him noth –“

“I said attack him!” yelled Gordon and swung his sword at his dragon; the tip sliced Samandriel’s flesh. The younger dragon screeched in pain and Dean saw scarlet blood spurt out of the fresh wound. Castiel roared angrily, making Dean’s eyes water, and Sam had to pull Dean backwards as to not let him get in the way of Cas attacking Gordon. Dean fell back, half on top of Sam, his heart beating frantically, his ears ringing; he expected to see Gordon getting shred to pieces, but instead, he saw that Samandriel had gotten in the way, stopping Cas from touching Gordon, and Castiel’s claws had found poor Samandriel’s cheek.

Dean had time to see the desperate look on both the dragons’ faces and to hear something like “no, brother, please don’t do this,” before Gordon was back on his field of view, pointing two swords at both him and Sam.

“I’m gonna rip you both to shreds,” hissed Gordon as Dean’s hand frantically patted the ground behind his back. “I’ll pull out your guts and feed them to the dogs. You miserable, treacherous, pathetic –“

Dean’s hand found what it was looking for. He grabbed the rough stick firmly and, with a quick swing, brought it about and hit Gordon’s wrist as hard as he could. Gordon grunted in pain as his sword was thrown away behind him, scratching Castiel’s wing, making him hiss. Dean only managed to get a glance of Samandriel taking half step back hesitantly, and then going straight for Castiel’s shoulder; Dean heard Castiel’s roar of pain but was brought back to reality by Sam, who was pulling him up by the elbow. Gordon was still standing in front of them, with only one sword pointing at them this time. He turned it from Dean, to Sam, then to Dean again. Dean brought his other hand on the stick, feeling the dirt sticking on his skin and the rough surface scratching it.

Dean was aware of Sam raising his hand towards Gordon. He didn’t dare look.

“Gordon, calm down,” said Sam, trying to sound confident, and Dean realised his hand was raised in a placating gesture. A screech from Samandriel made Dean’s blood chill but he stubbornly didn’t look at the two dragons fighting. “I only met you today, right?” Sam continued, and Dean wanted to tell him to stop, look at his eyes, this is not a sane man anymore. “I can see you’re not a bad man, you’re just lost. Now, put the sword down and let’s just –“

Instead of an answer, Gordon yelled angrily and swung his sword at Sam’s raised hand. Sam managed to pull it back before Gordon managed to cut it off, getting away with nothing but a scratch, but suddenly, all Dean could see was the blood spurting from his brother’s forearm. He felt his breath sticking in his throat, not enough to give him air, and he looked for a second towards the dragons; Castiel, who wanted to end the war, defending himself against Samandriel, the little dragon he had basically brought up, and it was all because of Gordon.

Dean screamed in anger and brought the stick down to Gordon’s side as hard as he could. Gordon grunted and fell down, still clinging to his sword, panting. Sam approached him with two quick strides and kicked his hand, throwing his sword somewhere away from him. Gordon grabbed Sam’s ankle and pulled, making Sam lose his balance and fall down on the pile of dead leaves by the riverbank. Dean brought himself down on Gordon, elbow first, aiming for the other man’s chest, but Gordon rolled away and Dean’s elbow found him on the shoulder. Before Gordon managed to get up, Dean hit again with his elbow, catching Gordon on the cheekbone, then again on his neck. Gordon choked, coughed, rolled to his side, tried to get up. Dean had just half-gotten up when Sam crawled next to them, grabbing Gordon’s head in his large hands, holding him still from the neck, threatening to break it; Dean sat on Gordon’s legs, receiving a kick in the face. He punched Gordon’s crotch as hard as he could, and the muffled scream from under Sam’s arm was one of the best things he’d ever heard. Gordon kept half-struggling, but much weaker than before, and Dean dared look at the dragons.

Samandriel was still trying to hit Cas, lifelessly, wearily, as if he was hypnotised. Dean noticed that Cas was far more injured than Samandriel; he’d probably received all the blows, barely hitting back.

“Cas!” yelled Dean desperately. “Please, stop it, for God’s sake, stop it!”

Castiel looked at him. Samandriel found the chance and gave him a weak slap, making him only flinch in something Dean guessed wasn’t pain. Castiel turned to face Samandriel, and Dean saw the hopeless look in the smaller dragon’s eyes. He didn’t hear if Castiel said something, but he felt his mind filling with regret which he knew wasn’t his own; then Castiel raised his already injured wing and slapped Samandriel in the face, leaving a small bloody trail there which Dean didn’t know whether it belonged to Cas, Samandriel or both.

Samandriel made a grimace of pain and looked at Cas; Cas nodded slightly and Samandriel collapsed in a very controlled way. Gordon struggled under Dean’s body, but then Castiel was there, Dean and Sam had got off, and Gordon was trapped under Castiel’s claws and facing a few dozen teeth big as a man’s forearm, only inches away from his face.

Castiel was immovable, a terrifying mountain of white and silver scales, panting angrily over a small man’s body. His wings were injured, the feathers messed up, but they were still moving normally; maybe a little stiffly from the blood and the pain, but quite normally. He had a big cut above his left eyebrow and several minor ones around his body. His eyes looked as if they were actually glowing as he stared into Gordon’s; maybe they were. Dean had never seen Castiel this angry before.

“Get off me,” muttered Gordon, still struggling weakly.

“Give me one good reason to not kill you,” hissed Castiel coldly, and Dean felt a chill run through his spine. “Give me one good reason to not snap you in half right now.”

“You’ll never get away with it,” said Gordon. “They’ll catch you, and you’ll be busted. You’ll be revealed.”

“Nothing will be revealed, you disgusting son of a bitch,” barked Dean. “I’m gonna smash your bones, do you hear me? How dare you –“

“Dean,” Sam called quietly, grabbing Dean’s arm, and Dean stopped to look at his brother. “No, we won’t be the same as him. We’ll take him to the Headquarters. He’s got a lot of shit to answer for.”

“I’ll tell them everything,” threatened Gordon, but Castiel snapped his teeth at him and growled.

“What exactly are you gonna tell them, you dickhead?” yelled Dean, snapping his arm away from Sam and taking a couple of steps towards Castiel and Gordon. “That you saw a dragon turn human? Do you think anyone would ever buy that?”

“Do you really think your dragon’s godsend?” yelled Gordon. “Kill me if you want, but you’re all gonna be killed yourselves when the truth is revealed! Do you think you can keep this a secret for long?”

“We’re not gonna kill you, you dipshit,” spat Dean. “You threatened to kill us, accused us of treachery and made poor Samandriel fight Cas against his will! If you don’t get thrown out of the military, then yeah, we’ll contemplate icing your sorry ass.”

“My dragon listens to me, Winchester!” screamed Gordon, completely out of control. “Yours would do it too if he wasn’t a freak!” Castiel growled at him, but Gordon seemed to have lost it. “Go on, then, kill me! Kill me and you’ll be damned! I’ll see you all in Hell!”

Castiel took a deep breath and Dean half-expected him to suddenly breathe fire on Gordon, but instead he looked at Dean with a warning look in his eyes, and Dean somehow knew to prod Sam and watch him mimic Dean and cover his ears before Castiel roared right over Gordon’s head.

“Don’t you dare,” Castiel bellowed, “don’t you dare raise your voice at us again! You’re only alive because we allow you to be! Shut your mouth and keep your head down! If you even think about even looking at Samandriel or if you even whisper a word to Dean or Sam, I will start biting off your limbs one by one, starting with the arm that held the sword which marked Samandriel’s skin. Move it!”

Dean didn’t really expect any words to work on Gordon, but to be honest, if he’d been in Gordon’s place, he would have probably obeyed as well. Gordon remained still as Sam took off his belt and tied the other man’s hands, as Castiel went by Samandriel’s side, still glancing at Dean and Sam.

They headed for Auster silently, not daring to utter a word, with Dean and Sam walking in the front, Gordon between them, and Castiel holding up Samandriel in the back.

Dean wondered what had happened to the quiet nights of sleep and less worries.


	14. Betrayal

****

Dean tapped his foot nervously on the ground. Gordon had stopped struggling, but his expression wasn’t one Dean was particularly enjoying; in fact, Dean was sure that if looks could kill, he would have been dead for a while. At least Samandriel was lying quietly on the side of the arena and was showing no intentions of resisting. Of course, Dean kept in mind that it was probably Castiel’s presence that kept them both down, but still, it was nice not to have to fight for a bit.

Dean looked at Castiel. “How long has it been?” he asked.

“They’ll be here soon, Dean. It’s been less than ten minutes,” Castiel reassured him, and Dean sighed nervously. Sam had gone to inform Michael of what had happened, and every second felt like an hour to Dean.

They waited in silence for a few more minutes. Just when Dean thought he’d die of old age, he heard the beating of wings above them. He looked up, seeing Michael coming down. Dean saluted nervously.

“Sir, let me explain –“

“Silence, Captain Winchester,” ordered Michael, and Dean was smarter than to argue. “The rest are coming in a few minutes. Then we shall all decide what to do with you.”

“What to do with _Dean?”_ snapped Castiel, his wings flaring up, and Dean wanted to stop him, but he had no strength left to either call his name or try and reach his mind. “Sam must have told you what happened! Why are you blaming us?”

Michael rose up and roared, making Castiel take a step back. “Don’t test me, Castiel,” growled Michael, and crap, people should be scared when Michael didn’t use ranks. “You will only speak when spoken to.”

“But –“

“ _Only_. When. Spoken to. Understand?”

Castiel didn’t make any effort to hide his angry snort. He lowered his head and his wings and took a couple of steps back, his raging gaze still on Michael.

“No,” Michael's voice echoed in the arena. “Step away from Samandriel. I can see the damage you two ridiculous younglings did to each other, and I will not risk it again.”

Samandriel raised his head weakly. “It’s not Castiel’s fault, sir,” he started. “If you just let us explain –“

“ _Silence,”_ Michael hissed. Castiel whipped his tail, but he didn’t say anything; Samandriel lowered his head, and Dean had the impression that it wasn’t the young dragon’s wounds that were making him so tired.

“Captain Winchester?”

Dean looked at Michael. “Yessir.”

“Step away from Lieutenant Walker, if you please, and release his hands.” Dean nodded and untied Gordon. “If either of you even thinks about fighting again, I will have you both thrown out of the regiment and the army for good,” Michael added, and Dean took a step away from Gordon, keeping Sam’s belt in his hands.

The rest of the dragons and the aviators arrived soon afterwards and formed a circle around them. Dean knew this was a trial. He didn’t know what he and Cas would be questioned about and why they should be blamed, but he didn’t protest; that wouldn’t do any good.

Of course, he knew why it wasn’t only Gordon’s ass on the line; Michael had hated Castiel ever since Cas had dared to speak his mind and managed to make the regiment take decisions without needing Michael's leadership. They had started to realise that they didn’t need him as much as they’d all thought, and that scared Michael. Dean couldn’t blame him.

Well, okay. That was a lie. He definitely could.

Michael looked around, checking that everyone was in place, and spoke loudly. “You’re all probably wondering why I gathered you here before even the crack of dawn,” he started. “The truth is that things are going wrong in this army; _very_ wrong. These four are here to remind us.”

There was a slight murmur among the others, but nobody spoke out loud; Dean didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

“Captain Dean Winchester,” Michael called. “Your brother, the newcomer Samuel Winchester, former captain of the navy, has informed me that you were both involved in a fight with Lieutenant Gordon Walker. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but Gordon was the one to –“

“ _Is that correct_ , Captain?”

Dean sighed shakily, trying to keep his anger under control. “Yes, sir, it is correct.”

“Lieutenant Walker,” Michael continued, and Dean blinked in surprise at the sudden change of focus. “Samuel Winchester has also informed me that you were the one to attack Captain Winchester and his brother, as well as force your faithful companion to attack a dragon of the same regiment. Is that true?”

Well, that was it. This is where shit went down. It all depended on Gordon’s mouth.

“It’s true,” said Gordon coldly, but Dean knew he wasn’t finished. “But I had my reasons, sir, and if you would only let me explain –“

“I don’t understand why you believe you’re more important than the others, Lieutenant,” Michael interrupted. “Do you think that when I said ‘you’ll speak only when spoken to’ applied only to the rest? You will answer my questions and then, _only_ then, will you be free to speak. Now, _silence,_ until I finish speaking,” he hissed, and Gordon shut up.

“So, Lieutenant,” Michael continued, more calmly. “Please explain to me why the hell you attacked your fellow soldiers.”

Dean didn’t expect Gordon to be honest with Michael, but for whatever reason, he was. If he hadn’t been clearly batshit insane, Dean knew that his own ass, as well as Castiel’s and Sam’s, would have been in serious trouble. Gordon admitted to having spied on them and attacked them, and he claimed it was because he had suspicions of Dean being a traitor to the Crown. He said that Dean seemed to have many connections with Elavorn, and he didn’t hide his doubts about Meg either. That, of course, was his first big mistake. Meg, so far as most of the regiment was concerned, had proved her worth when she gave them the vital information they needed to get their loved ones back, and had added to their already weak part of the army. If Dean had indeed been the one to bring her to Auster, the regiment thought he should be praised, not attacked.

The second big mistake Gordon made was to try and explain why he had gone into the forest and attack Dean, Cas and Sam. Nobody else had woken up by a “strange light”, so Gordon had either been dreaming, or he had simply been stalking Castiel and the Winchesters for some time already and now he was making up excuses. Gordon insisted that he’d seen Castiel turn into a winged human, which resulted in amused or annoyed snorts from most. When Michael, a little too patiently, asked Gordon to describe what he saw, he said he’d seen a “winged man that looked like Castiel” sitting with Dean and Sam, and that they’d been talking about the prophecies of the Seglaag. Michael outright laughed at that, triggering similar reactions from several others.

“Maybe you should do better to join a church, Lieutenant, since you are clearly troubling yourself more with legends than the actual rules of the army,” he said.

Gordon’s third mistake, of course, was Samandriel himself. Gordon insisted on his story about Castiel, and admitted to having encouraged Samandriel to attack the other dragon. Michael didn’t even try to hide his anger.

“Even if you had been right, Lieutenant,” he fumed, “and Castiel had been a mythical creature instead of a dragon, what on earth made you think you had the right to take matters into your own hands?”

“I was defending the regiment,” Gordon protested, oblivious to the general atmosphere. “Don’t you see? The Elavorni have found an abomination and they’ve sent it to infiltrate our troops! Winchester has helped the enemies get inside the Agorreshian army!”

“What _troops_ , you idiot?” shouted Jo from the side, unable to hold it in. “We’re barely even a regiment! Cas has saved all of our asses a million times and –“

“Silence, Officer!” ordered Michael before turning back to Gordon. “Even if Captain Winchester and Castiel had indeed been traitors, do you realise that you should have brought them to me? The law of the army isn’t in your hands!”

“You would have done nothing,” spat Gordon.

“And with good reason,” answered Michael. “Why would I trust the words of a madman who uses outrageous legends to excuse his behaviour? Lieutenant, did you or did you not order Samandriel to act against his will?”

“He shouldn’t have a different will than mine in the first place,” growled Gordon, and Dean could feel the anger rising in the arena. “He’s my dragon!”

“You’re as much his as he is yours” hissed Michael. “You are not to abuse the connection you have with him to control him, Lieutenant. You were taught that much long before you were given the privilege of getting to ride a dragon. Have you forgotten everything?”

As Gordon made up some excuses, Dean reached for Castiel’s mind and found it easily.

 _We can control each other through our connection?_ he asked, surprised. _I don’t think we can do that, can we?_ For a moment, he was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t suspect Castiel of ever having tried to control him. Because, thank you paranoia, he definitely hadn’t tried to. And Dean knew he wasn’t able to control Cas, right?

 _Apparently,_ we _can’t,_ answered Castiel. _But I’ve heard it can happen. The others have told me stories about it, but I never paid much attention. Maybe they weren’t as blind and had seen what was happening to Samandriel before we saw proof of it._

_So what, Gordon turned Samandriel into some kind of a freaking puppet? Can he actually do that?_

_It seems so._

Fuck. Dean focused back on the trial, confirming that yes, of course he could hate Gordon more than before.

“You abused your power over Samandriel!” Michael was yelling. “You deserve no mercy, Lieutenant. You have driven yourself over a cliff and there’s no turning back!”

“Fine!” yelled Gordon. “Do whatever you want with me! Take away my dragon, torture me, kill me! It won’t change the fact that you’ve opened your arms to embrace traitors. You’re all damned!”

“Yes, thank you for your input, Lieutenant,” Michael said coldly. “You are hereby punished with one year of suspension and a downgrade to a Second Lieutenant. You are not –“

“This is bullshit!” yelled Gordon, scandalised, but Michael continued as if he’d never heard him.

“ _You are not_ allowed to fly or carry weapons until the suspension is over. You will not take part in any mission or expedition the regiment will be involved in, and you will repeat several vital parts of your training, as it is obvious that you have forgotten about the most important ones.”

“No fucking way,” Gordon tried to protest.

“Take him away, please,” said Michael, and made a gesture towards Jo and Anna to take care of it. “Now, the trial is over. I want you all to –“

“Permission to speak, sir,” interrupted Dean, unable to stop himself.

Michael looked annoyed, but not surprised. “What is it, Captain?”

“What about Samandriel, sir?”

“He couldn’t control his actions and therefore will not be punished.”

“No, I mean, what will happen now? In general?”

Michael’s eyebrow shot up. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Sir, look at him,” pleaded Dean. Samandriel was curled up, beaten, sad, unable to function; Dean couldn’t stand it. “I propose that he is taken from Lieu– Second Lieutenant Walker’s care and given to someone else who will treat him properly.”

Silence followed Dean’s words.

Michael spoke carefully. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Captain, but an aviator and a dragon cannot be parted until death. Samandriel is and will be connected to Second Lieutenant Walker until one of them is gone. What you say cannot be done.”

“But look at him!” Dean insisted and ignored Castiel’s tug at his thoughts. “He’s miserable! He’s been treated like shit! Ask anyone! We’ve been taking care of him, all those times Gordon wasn’t there. I’ve personally removed his harness and Cas has taken him swimming, all simple things that apparently, Gordon couldn’t provide!”

More silence. The sky was turning pink above their heads.

Michael sighed. “I wish you hadn’t mentioned that, Captain,” he said. “I appreciate your intentions, but you and Castiel are also punished with two weeks of suspension”.

Dean’s eyes widened and he heard several gasps and Castiel’s low growl. “What? Why!?” was the only thing he managed to say.

“You are not allowed to meddle with another dragon’s upbringing, Captain,” Michael explained, and by God, did he look sad? Dean didn’t trust that look.

“But Samandriel was _miserable,_ ” Dean insisted. “We were only helping him!”

“I know, but rules are rules,” Michael said, and Dean knew the conversation was over. “If it makes you feel better, you can spend those weeks monitoring Samandriel’s recovery, since taking care of him was what you were doing already. I will see you again in training in two weeks, Captain.” He flapped his wings. “Get ready!” he ordered the others. “It’s dawn! We’ll get started with today’s training right away!”

Dean watched Jo and Anna leave with Gordon and took a few deep breaths before getting on Castiel’s back. They waited for Samandriel to crawl between the preparing dragons and they all took off together.

Castiel tried to make contact with Dean as they headed for their lodgings, but Dean didn’t answer either Cas’ words or thoughts. He gave him a small pat on the arm, encouraging him to follow Samandriel into the dome, as he left for his room. Cas didn’t insist, and Dean would have felt grateful if he wasn’t so damn tired.

He ignored Sam’s calls and shut himself in his room, collapsing on his bed fully clothed and on top of the covers. He had to punch his pillow a few times to shape it, and if his punches were a little bit more violent than necessary, the pillow didn’t complain and Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to apologise.

He felt asleep before he’d even realised, and stayed asleep stubbornly, ignoring the stressful dreams he was getting. He’d have two whole fucking weeks to figure them out.

* * *

 

_Dean. Dean, wake up. Can you hear me?_

“Dean! Get up!”

_Please, Dean._

Dean opened his eyes, confused as hell. The combined voices of Castiel inside his head and of Sam outside his door made him dizzy. Trying to clear his mind, he realised someone was banging on his door. He got up, still drowsy from his sleep, and opened up to see Sam’s worried face, with Castiel right behind him.

“Sammy,” Dean muttered in a hoarse voice. He took in the info around him – it was sundown, and people were running about. He looked at Sam again. “What the hell is happening?”

“It’s Gordon, Dean,” Sam said. “He’s gone.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What?”

“He’s gone,” Castiel repeated, instead of Sam. “Samandriel’s still here, but Gordon has disappeared. Metatron, too.”

Dean guessed he must be still too sleepy. “Metatron?” he asked, not believing his ears. “What the fuck does Metatron have to do with Gordon?”

“Apparently, Metatron hates this regiment as much as Gordon does,” Sam explained. “Chuck is in terrible condition, as much as he couldn’t stand Metatron, and Samandriel’s in pretty bad condition too. Cas was with him, but he switched with Anna to come and get you.”

“Why come and get me?” asked Dean, but he still went back inside and got his boots and coat, following them and tying his laces at the same time.

“Michael has called for a meeting in the capital,” Castiel explained as he crouched down. “We all need to be there.”

“Fuckin’ great,” murmured Dean, and jumped on Castiel’s shoulders. Cas waited for Sam to follow, but he seemed hesitant.

“Dude, what’s up?” asked Dean impatiently.

“Shut up, I’ve never done this before,” Sam protested. Dean rolled his eyes and held out his hand for his brother to grasp, then pulled him up behind him. Castiel took off immediately and Dean felt Sam’s arms tighten around his waist. He snorted in amusement as he remembered riding with Sam like this on horses when they were kids, but of course, back then Sam wasn’t even taller than Dean, so the nostalgia didn’t last for long.

They found the others at the gates of Auster, and flew off. Samandriel stayed close to Castiel, and he looked so comfortable around him that Dean wondered whether Cas had a little telepathy thing going on with Samandriel too. However, even if Dean couldn’t read Samandriel very well, Cas’ expression didn’t change at all, so he guessed nothing was happening between the two dragons that he wasn’t aware of.

They followed Michael in silence as the sky turned from orange to red to purple to blue. The wind had been growing colder as December drew nearer, and it was even worse as the dragons flew higher. Dean noticed some lights underneath and realised it was candle and gas light from the windows. The entire city was illuminated, haunting, dark and intimidating and beautiful underneath him.

Eventually, Michael started to descend and the others followed. They all soon landed by the headquarters, around the domes, where General Mills and Naomi were waiting for them.

“Get inside,” General Mills ordered, pointing at one of the domes, before more than half of them had the time to touch the ground. Michael went in first after Naomi, and the others followed. Dean jumped from Castiel’s back and helped Sam get off too. He looked around; Chuck was getting off Anna’s back, after Jo, and Samandriel kept close to Cas. The dome was filled with noises, and Dean felt claustrophobic in there. There were people coming inside that Dean had never seen before, and he realised that hey, maybe Auster Regiment wasn’t all the army had after all.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Naomi to let out a loud roar, silencing everyone else. General Mills climbed on her dragon’s shoulders.

“Fellow soldiers,” General Mills called. “We have found ourselves in a crisis. As you all probably know, a man we have all trusted in the past, an old friend… has betrayed us.”

She paused. No one spoke.

“Lieutenant Gordon Walker has been with us since his childhood,” continued General Mills. “And it seems he had been experiencing some difficulties with trusting the ways of our army.” Dean shifted nervously; Gordon hadn’t been the only one. “But instead of acting in a way that would lead to the improvement of our systems,” General Mills went on, and did she really glance at Castiel? “… he preferred to take justice into his own hands. When he was punished for his disobedience, he chose to escape on a dragon whom he had no rights to.” She paused, and took a breath. “We have also found remnants of a poison known as Demon’s Breath in his room, as Commander Talbot reports.”

Dean felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. He heard the muttering around him, and could swear Anna whispering: “I knew it.”

“Then it’s true,” Michael muttered. “Captain Winchester was right. He was indeed poisoned.”

General Mills nodded, and looked at Dean. “We apologise for the lack of faith we had in your words, Captain, and we shall be more open-minded to possibilities such as this in the future.” Before Dean managed to answer, she looked away and addressed them all again. “We don’t know what reasons Gordon Walker had to try and murder his comrade twice; was it jealousy, mistrust, anger? But we do know that he cannot be allowed to walk free. We need to find out where he’s headed, and soon. He knows our army’s ways and secrets and he has been present for all the trainings, so he will be a danger to us if he’s captured and forced to talk.”

Silence followed her words. She looked around. Dean followed her stare and noticed movement next to Anna; he didn’t have to wait long.

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” Chuck’s voice sounded hesitantly in the silence.

“Granted, Officer,” said General Mills. “Do you have any ideas? If you do, please share.”

“Uh… Metatron is – was – was my dragon,” stared Chuck nervously. “I know what he’s been thinking about the past few months. I guess that, uh, since Gordon chose Metatron to escape with, their ideas couldn’t have been that different, right?”

General Mills frowned. “What exactly has Metatron been telling you, Officer?”

Chuck was nervously playing with the fabric of his coat. “He did say several times that the war was lost, ma’am,” he explained. “That Elavorn had every chance of winning and that we should either surrender or join them before it was too late, and – and attack the capital city.”

Dean didn’t know Jody Mills well, but he expected some kind of a shitstorm to come Chuck’s way. However, General Mills remained completely calm.

“Do you think Metatron would act on these impulses, Officer Shurley?” she asked.

“Apparently, yes,” said Chuck desperately. “I’d always thought he said it to piss me off, you know? We never had the best relationship, for whatever reason.”

“Was it so bad that he would give you up for another rider?”

Chuck looked very uncomfortable, and General Mills didn’t insist; she just nodded and looked at them all.

“Has anyone heard Gordon Walker mention anything like that?” she asked. “Is there a chance he has gone to surrender to or join the Elavorni?”

Benny rubbed his neck uncomfortably. “Isn’t there a chance Gordon and Metatron just used each other?” he asked. “They might have had completely different reasons to leave. Maybe they just wanted out, and used each other to get away.”

Dean saw Sam roll his eyes and frowned. Some people nodded, unsure, and Sam took a step forward.

“Could I speak, ma’am?” he asked politely. General Mills squinted curiously for a moment, but then relaxed.

“Ah, you must be the scholar from Elaurans,” she said. “Samuel Winchester, right? You never came to my office when you arrived. I was wondering when I’d see you.”

“Sorry about that,” said Sam apologetically. “Could I speak about the case?”

“Go ahead, Mr Winchester.”

“I haven’t been around long,” Sam started, “but I saw what Gordon is capable of. He was too angry to have simply retired from the army without permission. He made his dragon attack another, and he tried to kill me and my brother. We aren’t talking simple threats; we are talking about Gordon pulling his swords out and trying to slice us up. He even attacked Samandriel in his fury. This isn’t the profile of a man who is satisfied with just leaving the army; this is a man who wants revenge.”

The atmosphere was heavy in the dome, and Dean felt his stomach tighten. He realised that Castiel was trying to communicate with him and let his mind open. He didn’t receive words, but a calming sensation instead; he gave in. It would be easier to deal with this whole thing with Cas inside his mind than outside it.

“What about Metatron?” Jo asked. “Do you think he would join the other side?”

“It’s a possibility that we have to consider,” said General Mills. “Officer Masters, how would the Elavorni react in having to deal with two deserters who wanted to join their side?”

“About as well as you folks, I believe,” said Meg in her usual meek tones. “They would never miss the chance to use information Gordon and Metatron could give them, and since you guys share everything with everyone and those two treacherous sweethearts know pretty much all of the plans and tactics, I have many reasons to believe we’re all boned.”

General Mills pursed her lips, annoyed, but she also looked thoughtful. “What do you propose we do?”

“I say get ready for battle,” Meg suggested. “They aren’t gonna let us roam around when they’ve got their chance.”

“Isn’t that too predictable?” asked Lisa. “They will probably imagine we’ll be ready for battle. They don’t have the element of surprise. Why would they do the obvious thing?”

“Honey, why do you need the element of surprise when you’ve got double the forces of the enemy and know every technique they will use?” said Meg. “Lucifer would sell his mother’s soul to attack and destroy the capital. He blames the Council for every bad thing that has ever happened to him. He would demolish the entire city single-handedly if that helped please his queen.”

“We should inform the Crown,” suggested Kevin. “Kelmerr has already said they will help us against Elavorn. We can ask for help from other regions.”

“They can’t get here as fast as Lucifer’s dragons.” Meg pointed out.

“So what do you suggest, Officer?” asked Naomi coldly. “Do you propose we surrender instead?”

“Of course not,” Meg protested. “We need to stand our ground. We need to be prepared. We need to fight back! This war has –“ she stopped. She took a breath, and Dean had the impression that she looked towards his side of the dome, but he wasn’t sure. “This war has been raging for too long,” she said in the end.

Dean didn’t have time to think about that, because General Mills spoke loudly. “Then it is decided,” she announced. “We prepare for battle. We probably have only a few days. Get ready. Feed yourselves, check your armours, sharpen your weapons, run your drill. I will have ammo delivered to Boreas, where you will move; let them attack the wrong camp first, see how they like it. If you notice anything unusual happening among you, let me know immediately. Anyone who dares follow Gordon Walker and Metatron’s example will be imprisoned, if they resist they’ll be shot on the spot.” She looked around, looking tired. “This is going to be the battle of our lives, people. Make sure you live to remember it.”

The aviators scattered, leaving for Auster to move everything from there to Boreas as soon as possible. Many chose to visit a smithy or an armoury before they left. Dean decided to not let his overwhelming rush of feelings cloud his judgement and his abilities as a soldier, and left to find himself a good gun; he had more experience with swords, but he knew guns well enough, and for aerial battle the latter might come in handy; they would be better for Sam too. He and Castiel left Samandriel with Anna, and then found Sam and headed for the armoury owned by a woman named Andrea, following a suggestion from Benny. She said she’d have their weapons ready the next evening, ammo and all.

Before they left the Capital, Castiel asked to visit the angel temple once more, and Dean and Sam had no reason to refuse. If it gave him strength, maybe they should follow his lead and get some courage from whatever it was that did so. Besides, if their outrageous theories were correct and Cas really was part angel, maybe some distant relative would hear them praying and save their asses when the time came.

The three of them stayed by the angel temple for a long time, quiet at first, then shifting into telling anecdotes from their lives while they were apart. Dean and Castiel told Sam what had happened during the months they were away from the Impala; Sam told them recent stories of the ship’s crew; Dean and Sam told Castiel stories of their childhood. Dean rarely saw Castiel laughing, but this was the closest he’d seen him get. He didn’t complain; they all needed it. Dean felt like he was at a funeral; he tried not to think that in a few days, that might indeed be the case. He desperately needed to laugh it off, so he followed the funerary tradition and decided to laugh as much as he could. Sam and Cas were more than willing to comply.

They took off some hours later, after their stomachs had started to hurt from the laughing and after Dean’s eyes had watered; from the cold, maybe, or from all the laughing, or… well.

As they soared above the city, the clock on the angel temple struck midnight.

Dean looked ahead and welcomed December. He hoped it would turn out better than it seemed.

* * *

 

The morning of December the 1st found the Auster Regiment confused as to whether they should keep their name or change it. The move to Boreas had taken place the night before, as soon as the Winchesters and Castiel returned from the temple. Everyone was still trying to get used to the new spaces that were just different enough for someone to be confused and step into someone’s room instead of the bathroom during an emergency at four in the morning.

Boreas had only double rooms, so Dean and Sam shared one. They found out in the morning that the ones next to them were Kevin with Charlie and Chuck with Becky; one of the couples looked a bit flustered, and it wasn’t Kevin and Charlie. Dean decided not to make fun of them; neither Chuck nor Becky looked like the type to handle teasing well. Charlie wasn’t so subtle with them, though, so Dean sat back and enjoyed the show.

Ellen, having been forced to leave her bar in the middle of the night, passed by the rooms and threw each of them a couple of sandwiches and bottles of coffee; she said the preparations had started before they were even awake, and they’d better run. Michael needed all the hands he could get, so even Sam would be shown a few things he could do.

It took them a while to find the arena, but eventually they did. Michael ordered the dragons to practise their various attacks; they were to be given targets and shoot at them, and then they would target each other with less force to work on blocking the attacks. Naomi was there too, helping Michael, while Gabriel joined the exercises only for Jessica’s sake.

As per General Mills’ order, the aviators followed a woman named Lenore into the armoury and were shown the weapons they were to use in an actual battle. When they chose their arm-to-arm combat weapons, Lenore picked up similar weapons and faced each one of them. After Dean had his ass kicked, even though he always prided himself in his skills, he heard from somewhere behind him that Lenore was General Mills’ colonel, and that she was in charge of the land-based army. He was happy to know that; it would have been more embarrassing to get beaten by a simple officer.

They took up the guns a bit afterwards. Dean was pleased to see that he was as good with them as he remembered, and even more pleased to find out that Sam was just as good, even though it was the first time in his life that he was trying to shoot. At least the chances of Dean finding his brother lying dead somewhere after the battle because somebody got too close were decreasing dramatically.

Messages were sent all around for help to come as soon as possible, Dean learnt from Lenore. Kelmerr had promised help anyway, but Senvar was closer, and Lord Campbell had family members in the army, so they were more likely to hurry and send help, or so Lenore said. The storages were already filled with ammunition and spare pieces of armour and weapons, and many soldiers from the city came and joined the regiment as backup. They were mostly archers and shooters, who could attack from the ground and possibly damage dragons without having to ride one themselves.

The city was desperately trying to keep calm, and completely failing. General Mills had asked for a hearing with the Royal Council, but she had been denied, so she took the initiative and went around the city looking for new recruits, even in the eleventh hour. Boreas was full of impatient, nervous young people by nightfall. Most of them had never seen a dragon up close before and Dean suggested they freak them out a little, but Castiel only tilted his head and asked what purpose that would serve, and Dean had to sigh and get serious again. He was so, so tired of being serious, mostly because he had to think about serious things, and then about serious consequences, and that scared the living crap out of him. And fuck, he hated being scared.

A week passed, and nothing had happened. The strange shapes in the sky always turned out to be clouds or birds, the beating wings noises that woke the regiment at night were nothing but drying sheets in the wind, and the dragon roars that worried the soldiers were usually distant thunder. The weather was getting worse and worse, and instead of the dry, solid cold Dean was used to, it rained all day, and when it didn’t, the village was swamped in fog.

Boreas was equipped with a sheltered arena, smaller than the one in Auster, not so much for flying but just for some indoors training, with targets for both the aviators and the dragons, so the training continued during the first week of December. It mostly involved the aviators showing the new recruits how everything was done – along with teaching them that dragons weren’t going to eat them or burn them or step on them or whatever else. Some of the recruits were good, and some were freaking terrible, but hey, what could the regiment do; they couldn’t be picky when they had a dragon army coming at them any time now. Dean at least hoped the newbies wouldn’t hit any of their own during a battle; he truly prayed that they remembered his orders to be a hundred percent sure who they were shooting at.

During that week, Dean tried to spend every free moment he had with Sam or Cas, and tried even harder not to think that any day could be his last. He believed he had managed to put up a good enough schedule. Sam, when Dean was helping get the new recruits ready, would either point out each dragon species’ weakness to General Mills and the rest of the tacticians – using papers and notes on which Dean spotted Bobby’s handwriting. At first Dean thought Sam couldn’t have any info that trained veterans wouldn’t know of, but the kid was full of surprises, and turned out to be really useful.

When they finished the sessions and the next team of new soldiers with their own trainers took over the arena, Dean would go with Castiel somewhere quiet and Sam would go to meet Jess somewhere… well, somewhere quiet, but not for long. Whenever Sam and Jess left, Dean was very happy that Cas mostly remained a dragon these days, otherwise his imagination told him that Sam would have had some very unwanted comments to make. The few times in the first couple of days that Cas had turned human – well, human _oid_ – again, Dean had found himself as frustrated as the first time, and he tried to convince himself that it was only because he hadn’t had some in a while. He was looking for a polite way to tell Cas that he and his dick would really appreciate it if Cas didn’t show off his amazing body and awesome silver wings and so wonderfully inhuman eyes, and that if he did that confused head tilt once more while in his human-like form, Dean’s libido would explode, but thank every possible deity, Cas stopped changing forms in the third night without explaining why; Dean didn’t ask. They could have so little time left together; they didn’t have time for questions. Instead of sleeping or resting or training more, they were content to lie down under the thickest trees, with Dean under Castiel’s wing, and just spend the time exploring each other’s thoughts. Dean had fortunately found out how to hide certain thoughts about Castiel – no, not about _Castiel_ , about Castiel’s _humanoid body_ , never get those two mixed – and not let him see them, and he had the impression that Cas was hiding things of his own too. A small, suspicious and very jealous part of him was annoyed, but he figured that Cas hadn’t brought up Dean’s own little secret mind corner, so Dean had to let it go.

In the very little time they had at night, Dean and Sam met with the rest of the aviators and made weapons; Dean and Sam found that Charlie was as good as Sam in making exploding bottles. Benny proved himself to be awesome at taking useless junk and debris and tying it together to create the deadliest blades Dean had ever seen in his life, and he’d fought pirates in the past and seen some nasty shit. So Dean learnt from Benny, and together they taught others, while Sam and Charlie showed their own tricks to the rest.

On December the 7th a storm was raging over Boreas and the rest of the capital. Michael and Gabriel had gone to the capital with General Mills and Naomi to ask for a hearing again. The rest of the aviators and the dragons alike, as well as all seventy-six of the newcomers, had found shelter in the closed arena. The children had been sent to the capital to be safe from the battle.

Pamela had declared that she had a talent for reading tarot cards, so Becky had demanded she told them their future. Pamela hadn’t been very willing to do so, but she had taken out her cards and was now quietly shuffling them as she paid attention to the conversations happening around her.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Jess was saying. “We don’t even know _if_ they’re going to attack. We’ve been preparing for a week and waiting for the sky to fall on our heads any minute. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Well, we can’t do anything else,” said Jo. “To be honest, I can’t wait for this battle. I remember the face of the one who killed my dad. I’ve wanted to find him for months now, and now he’s coming to me. I’m okay with this.”

“Revenge doesn’t solve anything,” Jess replied. “I hate being a soldier. My parents were aviators too, so I had no choice. I was born here. The only other place I’ve ever seen in my life besides the Capital is Kelmerr, and that’s only because I was imprisoned there. And now I’m waiting for an attack that can kill me any day now. I don’t wanna go through this. There are so many things I haven’t done. All I’ve ever done is worry and fight about this country. I’m just tired of everything.”

Jo sighed, not finding any way to answer. Sam entwined his fingers with Jess’ and moved his thumb in small circles on her skin, without saying anything. She gave him a little smile. The silence was only broken by the flipping of Pamela’s cards. Dean felt Castiel’s wingtip brushing slightly against his back; he caught it gently and placed it next to his thigh, and didn’t care that he stroked it a few times more than it was necessary.

Soon enough, some hesitant muttering from the newcomers started forming around them, and the talking continued. Dean watched the others for a moment, his eyes lingering a little longer on Sam and Jess, now resting their heads together. If they had time, Dean thought, they could really fall in love. _Maybe that’s why they’re trying so hard to do it now_.

His eye caught Lisa looking at him. He gave her a little smile. _Time, huh? Maybe –_

_Dean?_

Dean was so used to Castiel’s presence inside his mind that he didn’t even blink. _Yeah._

_There’s something I need to tell you._

Dean’s heart beat faster. _Okay, buddy._

_Not here. Somewhere else. Before we go to sleep._

Dean licked his lips nervously. _Okay._ He cut the connection between them before Cas had time to say anything else. _Okay, calm down_ , he thought to himself. _It’s probably nothing. You know he can’t read all your thoughts. You can’t read all of his. Maybe he wants to know what you’re hiding, though. Or maybe he’s seen a dream or two. Shit. Okay, if push comes to shove, it’s not a shame to be attracted to an attractive body, right? It’s not my fault if he’s fucking gorgeous. It’s not like I would act on it. That’s crazy. Okay, focus. He probably doesn’t know anything. Gods, this is killing me._

Dean opened the connection again and found confusion.

_Why did you shut me off?_

_It’s nothing, I swear. Do you wanna talk now?_

_Why?_

_No reason. Just to get it over with._

_…All right. Let’s just wait for Pamela’s predictions and leave._

_Don’t tell me you believe this shit._

_You don’t?_

_Uh, not in a million years, no._

_Your scepticism is interesting for a person who rides a half-celestial, shape-shifting dragon and expresses his opinions without having to use his vocal chords._

Dean tried not to blush about thinking something really wrong when Cas said “rides”, and focused instead on everyone around. Charlie was talking to Chuck as she was gently stroking Samandriel’s neck; they were sitting very close to Dean and Cas, so yes, that would be an acceptable change of subject for Dean’s brain.

“So who are you going to go to battle on?” Charlie was asking Chuck.

“I have no idea,” answered Chuck helplessly. “To be honest, I was never truly connected with Metatron, and I have no desire to ride on another dragon’s back. It would feel strange.”

“Pity,” Charlie commented, “I’d kill to have my dragon after all. I’ll have to wait a while, for sure. I just wish I had some other use in this battle besides holding the ammo and shooting from the ground. Not that that is the reason I want to get my dragon, of course. It’s just a bonus.”

“You can ride on my back, if you want,” sounded Samandriel’s gentle voice, and Charlie gasped as silence fell around them once again; Castiel raised his head and Dean’s eyes widened.

Charlie’s eyes had watered. She lowered her head to look Samandriel in the eye.

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“I’ve lost Gordon,” Samandriel said quietly, without looking up, “and he’s not coming back for me. Nobody has taken care of me better than you, except for Castiel. I would be happy to give you what you want, because you have already done it for me.”

“But –“ Charlie sounded astonished. “But I don’t know how to connect with you,” she said helplessly. “How do I –“

“Do you want to?” Samandriel asked.

“Yes,” muttered Charlie. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Then you’ll find a way.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Pamela, breaking the silence around them, “ _that_ I did not foresee.”

Some laughed, but most applauded as Charlie hugged Samandriel’s neck tightly, and to Dean, it seemed like the young dragon looked calmer than ever before. Charlie was murmuring a thousand thanks that Dean was sure not many people heard under the sounds of clapping hands and whooping. Eventually the sound stopped, and Dean was actually feeling happy; it was a surprising change. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“Way to go, kiddo,” he said, and punched Charlie gently in the shoulder. She laughed, wiping away a couple of happy tears with the base of her palm.

“I never thought this would happen,” she said, but as she started to form another sentence, Pamela dropped her last card and raised her hands, demanding silence. The regiment obeyed. Pamela stayed quiet for a few moments, and then held her breath.

“Well,” she said after a while, inhaling shakily, “we’d better enjoy this as long as it lasts, folks.”

“What did you see?” asked Adam.

“They are indeed attacking. And they want us all dead. Lucifer is furious at the Council, and will show mercy only to those who join his side.”

A worried murmur went around the arena.

“When are they coming?” asked Lisa, holding Inias’ arm.

Pamela took a deep breath.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Of course. What were the chances of Dean staying happy for long?


	15. Battleground

It took seventeen major panic attacks from the newcomers, two vomits, eleven messages to the Headquarters, two more tarot readings to be sure, thirteen bottles of alcoholic beverages and three shots in the air by Jo to get the entire regiment to calm down.

“Okay, quiet the _fuck_ down!” Lisa had ordered the newcomers. “We aren’t dying today, and we will make sure we don’t die tomorrow either! Now go and get some rest. The rest of us will inform General Mills of what Pamela saw, and we will get everything ready so that when we wake up we’ll be ready to fight in no time. The flightless ones will go find shelter in the Headquarters. No, I don’t wanna hear protests; we need someone experienced there to notify us if the Crown takes action, or to notify the Council if we send you a message. We can’t leave that to the newbies. Get some rest, contact your gods, sharpen your swords, and wait for the bells from the villages to ring. And don’t you dare die.”

Dean followed the rest of the soldiers in their rooms, but he could tell that he was too anxious to sleep, and that there was no point in lying down. He knew that eventually he would have to, and Cas had said he wanted to talk to him about something; as much as he dreaded what Castiel might have to say, he needed to hear it, and the sooner they got over it, the better. They might be dead in the morning; maybe that was their last chance.

Dean followed Castiel out in the open, right outside the village, like always. Boreas wasn’t surrounded by Tissantel’s trees, but the base of the mountain. The northern side of the village was actually resting against the rocky slope, and the road that led to the village was under the great rocks’ shadow. That was where Cas led Dean. The rain kept falling weakly, and Dean’s boots were wet and muddy, but no feeling was worse than the knot in his stomach, and anything was better than the atmosphere inside the arena or around it.

Dean leaned against the moss-covered rocks and looked at Castiel, who kept looking behind him, in worry or expectation, Dean could not understand.

“So… what is it, Cas?” Dean asked, hesitantly.

Castiel looked at him, and a few seconds afterwards, Samandriel appeared from inside the village, and hurried next to Castiel.

“Dean,” Castiel started, “something has happened.”

Dean looked at each of them. “Something that requires both of you to come and tell me, just a few hours before we get into a battle that could be our last?”

“Yes,” Cas said. Samandriel looked embarrassed, nervous. Dean suddenly felt really uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Dean muttered. “Okay. Tell me what’s up.”

“When Samandriel and I fought that night,” Cas started, “we didn’t really want to fight. I didn’t wish to hurt him, all I wanted was to make him see through my eyes.” Cas paused, glancing sideways at Samandriel.

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, getting angrier by the minute. “You tryin’ to tell me you guys are engaged or somethin?”

Castiel frowned. “No, of course not. I just think that… when we were fighting, some of my blood was mixed with his and might have entered his bloodstream,” he explained reluctantly.

Dean folded his arms on his chest. “And?”

“And… look,” said Castiel and he looked at Samandriel, who looked extremely nervous.

“Castiel, I’m not sure I –“ Samandriel started, but Cas nodded encouragingly.

 _Dean, look the other way_ , Cas said inside Dean’s head, but Dean was tired of all this. He stared at Samandriel just to go against what Cas had told him to do –

…and he felt his jaw drop against his will.

Seeing Cas shrinking into his human-like form (or angelic, or whatever) had never been pretty, but Dean was kind of used to it by now. Watching _Samandriel_ do it really messed with his head.

The tan dragon cracked and broke and shrank, turning into a slim, fair-haired young man. Dean felt like his eyes were about to fall from their sockets as he looked at Cas barely blinking and taking his humanoid form in a less than a second, and stand still on time to grab the swaying Samandriel and help him balance.

“Holy fucking shit,” murmured Dean and he leaned back on the rocks, wiping his forehead. This was too fucking much.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice sounded. Dean closed his eyes, took a few breaths and then looked at the two… well, what? Dragons? Sort of, yeah, only they weren’t. And yeah, Cas might be the stuff of legends or whatever the fuck was it that he’d turned out to be, but Samandriel wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. He looked like Cas had when he had first turned; he had a few scales here and there; the pupils in his green-blue eyes were slit, but otherwise he didn’t have a tail or claws or wings or anything else. _Stark naked,_ Dean thought, _they’re both standing there, in front of me, stark fucking naked. I don’t know which God might be listening right now, but fuck you very much, you asshole. I don’t need this._

“Fuckin’ cover yourselves,” Dean muttered and Castiel quickly wrapped a wing around Samandriel’s waist and the other around his own. “What the hell happened?” Dean asked. “Did this happen because of your blood?”

“I looked it up,” said Castiel and Dean raised an eyebrow. “Really, I did,” Castiel insisted. “I asked Sam for books about the Seglaag, and then went by the Temple’s library and asked them if they had any.”

“Wait, that can’t be,” said Dean, confused. “When did you go?”

“Yesterday night,” Cas told him. “Samandriel was feeling strange, and he felt like it had something to do with me without being able to explain it, so we tried this. I didn’t expect it to work, to be honest. But _I made it happen.”_

“What do you mean?” asked Dean.

“I willed my intentions into the part of my blood I was feeling inside Samandriel,” Castiel explained hesitantly, as if he wasn’t exactly sure, “and I helped him turn. He learnt to do it himself afterwards, but the first time was all me. I can do that at will.”

“Cas, you’re shitting with me, right?” said Dean. “You can’t possibly say that you can turn dragons into humans! That’s crazy!”

“I went to the library and asked for books,” Castiel continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “They told me that it was okay to ask for them, since it was for the new Scholar.  So I sat and read the parts I was most interested in.”

“Cas –“

“The _books_ , Dean.”

Dean sighed shakily. “What do they say?”

“The prophecy says _‘the Seglaag will shed blood and make the armies fight as one, and when the Demons are destroyed, peace will be restored’_ ”, Castiel explained. “The point is, I talked to Sister Tessa and she told me what they had always thought of it. She told me it means that an army of Seglaag will come down from the Heavens, half-angels, half-dragons, and that they will join the battle to help Agorresh, shedding the blood of the opposite side so much that they won’t be able to tell which side is one and who the other. The Demon, Elavorn, will be destroyed so peace can be achieved.”

“Yes, but it said ‘demons’, not ‘Elavorn’. Even Tessa had said that the war that the Seglaag would save us from would be with the demons,” Dean pointed out.

“The word for ‘demon’ and ‘enemy’ is the same in Old Celestial,” said Castiel. “Sister Tessa had given this meaning to the script herself; the others in the Temple believe the prophecy tells about the war with Elavorn.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dean asked impatiently.

“The interpretation is wrong,” explained Castiel excitedly. “I read the script, and Dean, I could understand it. Not perfectly, but I could. It doesn’t mention an army of Seglaag; the translators chose to believe it meant an army. It talks about only one.”

“And you are that one?” asked Dean. “I thought that was just a theory, Cas.” _But then of course, it never was only a theory, was it? Look at you, looking like an angel more than a real one could ever manage._

“It isn’t,” said Castiel softly. “Everything makes sense now, don’t you see? Why I’m different from the others, and why I was born knowing my own name. And the blood vow that worked on me but not on you; it never worked. I was going to be able to turn anyway. It didn’t work on you because your blood did nothing for me and my blood can only affect dragons, apparently.”

“So what you’re telling me” started Dean, looking at Samandriel, “is that Samandriel here turned because –“

“Because he got some of my blood inside an open wound, yes.”

“Like the opposite of a werewolf?”

“Dean, I don’t have to shed the blood of the enemies,” Castiel said impatiently. “I have to shed _my own_. My blood can be the weapon against the Demon.”

Dean blinked. “Excuse me?”

Samandriel took a small, unsteady step forward. “Lucifer believes the prophecy,” he said, and his voice was so freaking _human_ that Dean shivered. “Metatron had asked Lilith, and he had told Gordon, so I heard. Of course, they don’t take the prophecy seriously, so they only mentioned it as an anecdote, a joke at Lucifer and his crazy obsessions. I hadn’t taken it seriously either, until… Well.”

“So –“

“So it all clicks together,” said Castiel. “We can take advantage of this. If we talk to Michael, we can –“

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted nervously, “Michael already hates you as it is. We can’t tell them you’re the chosen one or something, he’ll flip out!”

“But if we tell him, we can dip arrows in my blood,” Castiel insisted. “When we hit dragons, I will turn them human while they’re airborne. It can’t fail.”

Dean laughed awkwardly. “Cas, this sounds crazy,” he said as calmly as he could. “Michael will never believe us.”

“But that’s the way it has to be,” said Cas. “It is written, Dean. We can’t win otherwise!”

“Well, we’ll have to try,” Dean interrupted. “I have learnt to work my battles with my own hands, Cas. I can’t rely on blood magic or some shit!”

“But look at Samandriel!” Castiel shouted. “It really works!”

“Cas, even if you are the chosen one, so what?” said Dean, more harshly than he was intending. “You managed to turn human one very cooperative dragon that you’ve known your whole life and who already had some of your blood inside him. Are you sure you can spare enough blood for an entire army and do the job while they are trying to kill you?”

Castiel hesitated. “I can try.”

“Well, I prefer dying tomorrow in the hands of an enemy than handing you to Michael,” snapped Dean. “If he finds out what you can do, he won’t care if you’re able to do it voluntarily. He’ll drain you, Cas. He’ll grab the chance to bring you down, and he won’t show any mercy. Hell, I’d rather give this whole fucking country to Lucifer than losing you, you got that?”

Castiel opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he closed it again. He shook his head.

“There’s no way I can argue with you,” he said helplessly. “Will you at least promise me you’ll think about it?”

“We need to go back, Cas,” said Dean and started walking towards the village. He heard Samandriel turn back into a dragon.

“Captain Winchester?”

Dean turned around at the sound of Samandriel’s voice. The smaller dragon looked ashamed, not looking at Dean in the eye.

“I’m sorry about what Gordon did to you,” he said, and Dean blinked in surprise. “I swear, I didn’t know what he was planning. I didn’t know about the poison.”

Dean nodded. “I believe you,” he said and felt Samandriel’s relief. The young dragon took off after that, and Dean moved towards the village once more. He took a few steps, and then felt a cool hand on his shoulder. He didn’t turn around.

“Will you think about it, Dean?” Cas asked softly.

Dean, without thinking, raised his hand and caught Castiel’s. His mind filled with a surprise that wasn’t his own, and then his own followed. He let go, and Cas pulled his hand back as well.

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, without looking behind. “Yes, Cas. I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

It took Dean twenty minutes to walk to his room, three minutes to make sure Sam wasn’t there, and an hour and a half to stop his brain from thinking. He didn’t know what kind of ending he wanted for this whole thing, but he sure as hell hoped it would finish soon. He didn’t think he could stand so much confusion.

He fell asleep with his mind focused on only one thought to keep the others at bay, and that was Castiel’s face. He dreamt of nothing.

* * *

 

Dean woke up before dawn. He had slept for only a few hours, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He got up, found his way to the baths and had a cold shower to force himself to function. His skin was almost hurting him in the cold wind of December when he walked out of the building but he found that he didn’t mind the cold at all. The sky was still dark and the silence was unnerving.

Dean returned to his room; Sam had returned and was lying on his bed. They looked at each other, and Dean started preparing his armour.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked quietly.

“Like shit,” Dean answered calmly.

“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “Me too.”

“Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t die, okay?”

“…I won’t.”

“Cool.”

“Same goes for you.”

“Okay. Then I won’t either.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t talk any more than that. Dean got dressed in a soft undershirt, a tunic, and a wool shirt. He put on a sturdy chainmail, made from rings of dragon steel, and a leather vest over it. He wore warm wool pants under his leather part of the armour, and thick socks inside his boots. He connected the shoulder pieces of his armour on the main piece with straps, and tied on the arm and leg pieces. He tied his belt around his waist, sheathing his old, loyal sword, as well as a couple of daggers just in case. He added some leather straps around his thigh which held his gun in place and hung the ammunition on a belt around his chest. He took his helmet and goggles in his hands and took a deep breath. Then he looked at Sam, who had gotten ready too, even though he was wearing the armour he used to have in the Navy, minus the stripes on his shoulders; black leather, simple blue ornaments, scaled armour underneath. Right above the heart the three golden dolphins of Elaurans were stitched. Sam had added a thigh holster for his gun as well, and for some reason, he didn’t remind Dean much of the old Sam, the one wearing this armour aboard a ship.

Dean gave his brother a little smile.

“Let’s go kick some ass, right Sammy?”

Sam chuckled sadly. “Yeah, you bet.”

They walked out of the room. The others were waking up too. The sky was dark, the first light of dawn hidden under grey clouds, heavy with rain. A few droplets fell here and there, and Dean wondered what it felt like to fight for your life on a wet dragon.

A bell rang twice, and another echoed after it, closer, and another one, even closer. Dean took a deep breath. They were coming.

Dean ran to the dome and found Castiel helping Charlie put Samandriel’s armour on; Gabriel was next to them, helping Jess to put his own armour on. Sam went over, trying to steal a few moments with Jessica before she was gone for the battle.

Dean noticed Charlie’s hands shaking as she tried to figure out the garments she’d never had to use before. When Dean approached her and put his hand on one of the armour’s straps, she jumped, gasping.

“Fuck,” she murmured and shook her head.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dean asked softly as he took care of the straps.

“Yes,” Charlie said firmly. “Well, I think I am. I will be.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she sighed. “I’ve never been in a battle before. Not an actual one. I’m scared out of my wits, to be honest.”

“Well, don’t be. You’re gonna kick ass, I know it,” Dean said with a forced smile. Charlie nodded and she tested the straps by pulling at them a little bit. She patted Samandriel’s arm and got on his back a bit unsteadily. Dean took a few steps back to give them space to leave the dome. Charlie was nervous, and damn, she should be. She was wearing her armour as if she’d been testing it in battle for years, but Dean didn’t like seeing her in it. Samandriel had looked strange, too, with the leather and chain pieces on his slender body, and a small part of Dean was happy that he wasn’t looking at them anymore.

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t only Charlie and Samandriel that made Dean’s stomach turn. He really didn’t want to make Castiel fight either.

He heard Gabriel’s massive wings flap a few times and the voices of Sam and Jess shout something to each other which he didn’t catch, and then Gabriel had taken Jess with him and they were gone.

“I’m going with the archers, Dean,” said Sam and Dean nodded.

“I’ll see you later, Sammy.” he said confidently.

Sam came closer and gave his brother a quick, firm hug before exiting the dome. Dean felt an empty space in his chest as he saw Sam leaving.

“Dean?” he heard Castiel’s voice.

“Come on, let’s get you ready,” said Dean, bringing a few pieces of Castiel’s armour close to the dragon. Castiel stepped away from them, though. “Damn it, Cas,” snapped Dean, “we need to get ready. There’s no time to waste.”

“I want you to know that there are a few bottles of my blood under my nest,” Castiel announced. “In case you did think about my suggestion.”

“Cas, we really don’t have time for this,” Dean insisted. “Come here and let me get you ready. They’re coming any time now; they could be seen from the Capital and the worker villages a few minutes ago. Didn’t you hear the bells?”

“I did, but –“

“Well, come over here.”

“Did you think about it?”

“Yes, Cas, I did, but –“

“What are you two doing still in here?”

Dean and Castiel alike turned around to see Meg and Lilith, already in their battle gear, looking inside the dome from the outside.

“We’ll be right there,” Dean shouted at her. “Just one second and we’ll –“

“Why are you bothering with his armour?” Meg asked.

“Uh, so that he won’t get pierced by a stray arrow, maybe?”

“But you aren’t going to fight, are you?”

Dean blinked. “What? Of course we are.”

“But Michael said you’re still suspended,” Meg said, confused.

“But that’s not possible,” Castiel protested. “Our suspension only counted before the regiment needed every able soldier on the front line.”

“Well, Michael seems to think that’s not the case.”

“What the fuck,” murmured Dean and threw down the piece of armour he was holding. “We ain’t got time for this shit!”

“You should really go to the arena,” Meg suggested. “That’s where everyone else is, the archers and the backup fighters and everyone. They’ll be encouraged to have a dragon with them, and maybe they’ll feel better if they’ve got a big scary one instead of someone that just got an allergy to gunpowder and had to stay behind.”

“That’s not a matter of encouraging the newbies! They can’t forbid us to fight!” snapped Dean.

Meg shrugged. “Well, whatever you do, do it fast. They’re almost here, and they know we’re waiting.”

“Shit,” muttered Dean. He looked at Castiel and then glanced towards his nest. Maybe, if he told Michael about the blood… _maybe_ he would let them fight and the regiment would have a chance against the Elavorni. But it was a big risk. No, Dean couldn’t try it until push came to shove.

“Cas, get ready,” Dean said. “Wear your armour and wait for me here. I’ll convince Michael to let us in. And, about your suggestion… I might tell him about it. Okay?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel answered and Dean strode outside, looking around for Michael, ignoring the shouts echoing; the battle was already starting.

“Where the hell are you going?” Meg yelled after him. “You’re never going to find him! Just go to the freaking arena and do as he says!”

“You shut up and help Cas with his armour, if you wanna be useful!” Dean answered and ran towards the arena, in hopes of finding somewhere there that could point him to Michael. The rain was thickening now, not particularly strong, but it was clear from the occasional lightning and thunder that things were going to get much worse.

Dean heard the distant screeches and saw Naomi, carrying General Mills, take flight from a place near the northern gate of the village. Anna, Abaddon, Inias, Gabriel and Balthazar were behind them, their riders already holding their guns in their hands.

“Take cover!” yelled General Mills, looking down. “If they shoot and miss us, it’s gonna land on your heads!”

As if to emphasize her words, a screech of an attacking dragon was heard and a jet of acid was shot right where Balthazar had been standing, leaving a steaming hole in the ground.

Dean looked around frantically. “Michael!” he called desperately. No answer. Fuck. Michael was probably airborne already. Dean and Cas would have to go out on their own, then, and damn the consequences. “Michael!” yelled Dean once more, not hoping for much.

“Captain Winchester.” The voice came from right behind Dean and made a shudder run across his spine, but he turned around to face the great Firebreather. Michael was in full armour, not as much leather as metal, and had never looked more intimidating.

“Sir,” Dean started, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Not now, Captain. If you haven’t noticed, the attack has started already. Please head back to the arena immediately,” said Michael strictly and got ready to land, but Dean wouldn’t give up so easily.

“Sir, why do I need to go to the arena?” he asked desperately. “Both myself and Cas are very willing to fight! Why must we –“

“A suspension is a suspension, Captain,” Michael said strictly, “and there will be no exceptions.”

“But you need us!” Dean exclaimed. “You need every helping hand possible!”

“Not yours, I’m afraid. Stay in the arena. Take care of the new recruits. Guide them. This is as great a duty as any other.”

“But we have a plan,” Dean said, unable to stop himself. “Cas has thought of a really good tactic, and –“

“Then he should practise it when he becomes head of his own regiment,” Michael interrupted coldly. “Go to the arena, Captain. I won’t ask again.”

“But sir –“

“I will not. Ask. Again.”

Dean bit his lip to keep his mouth closed. “Yessir,” he muttered, and Michael took off before Dean even managed to finish his word. Dean could only watch as Michael joined the fight happening above, and it was the first time Dean actually paid attention to it.

The Elavorni had come from the south, as they apparently did attack the wrong village first. Their flying forces weren’t that much to speak of, but their numbers did seem to be larger than the ones of the single regiment of the Capital. They weren’t moving in a formation; each of them moved individually, trying to get as many enemies as possible. Jets of acid and poison were thrown everywhere; Dean saw one late newcomer getting hit in the face by an acidic spit and die instantly, screaming, his face melting. For some reason, Dean had the impression that the Elavorni dragons were bigger than their own.

A great Royal, which Dean thought must be Lucifer himself, was flying in front of the Elavorni. Dean couldn’t see him clearly, but he saw he was bigger than Michael, his scales a dull copper; on his back he had a rider which Dean couldn’t see well.

“Fucking dammit,” murmured Dean and he ran back to the arena, finding cover behind walls to escape the dragon attacks and, in some cases, the arrows and shots; of course, the dragons spitting fire on them wasn’t enough, the aviators had to join the fight and target the ones in the ground too. Dean covered his ears with his helmet, pulled out his gun and aimed a couple of times. He shot at someone on a big Eastern, missing the aviator but getting the dragon in the throat, making it screech horribly and retreat. He shot again at another, two, three, four times, until the aviator fell over and the dragon followed in despair of what had happened to its rider. Dean shot another three times towards a large Frostling that might or might not have been Alistair, getting it on the wings and not making it fall, but at least forcing it to scream and change direction. His next two shots went directly towards Lucifer, missing him completely. The next pull of his trigger made an empty clicking noise and gave no result.

Dean ran a few more feet towards the dome and ducked behind an old well to avoid a shot of frost and razor-sharp ice shards. He cursed under his breath and reloaded his gun. He got ready to shoot, but then –

**_Dean…!_ **

Castiel’s voice drowned Dean’s brain inside it, and Dean fell to his knees, grunting, squeezing his temples. _Cas?_ he tried to call, but he found only frustration in the connection that happened without his permission.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Dean muttered and he ran towards the dome frantically, completely forgetting about the battle raging above him.

He reached the dome at the moment when the wall beside its gate shattered with a deafening noise, filling the air with dust and debris; Dean covered his face behind the inside of his elbow as Castiel threw through the hole, of all the possible enemies, _Lilith_.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, but Castiel was occupied with beating the shit out of the other dragon. Lilith fought like a rabid cat; she clawed and bit and growled and made high-pitched noises and whipped Castiel’s back with her thorny tail. Castiel didn’t give up so easily, though; he pinned her down, using his weight as an advantage, and bit her throat, making her choke. Lilith struggled and screeched and hit Castiel as hard as he could, but his jaws were cutting her breath and his claws were stuck deep inside her shoulders. Eventually, she gave up and stopped moving. Dean had no idea whether she was dead or alive.

“Cas?” Dean exclaimed, watching Castiel step aside from the fallen female, panting; his jaws were bloody and his underside and back were injured. He missed a step, almost falling, but stood up again quickly and spat a mouthful of blood.

“Dean,” he called softly and approached Dean. “Are you alright? Did anyone attack you?”

“Not specifically, no,” said Dean, confused as hell. “What the fuck happened? Where’s Meg? Are you alright?”

“One question at a time,” said Castiel and looked inside the dome. “Meg’s in there. She’s injured, but I don’t know if we should help. Come on.”

Castiel stepped over the debris and Dean followed quickly, as a random misplaced fire bolt hit a rooftop next to them, making it burst into flames. Dean glanced at Lilith.

“Cas, did you kill her?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“I hope not. She has a lot to answer for,” Castiel said coldly. Dean saw Meg kneeling down by Castiel’s nest, covered in dust and blood. She looked up as Dean and Castiel approached and fell over as she tried to both stand up and crawl away. Dean strode towards her and grabbed her by the collar.

“What the fuck did you do?” Dean snarled in her face.

Meg made a grimace. “I didn’t do anything, I swear. Lilith –“

“Cut the bullshit,” Dean spat at her. “You and Lilith ain’t like Gordon and Samandriel, you’re BFFs, like you should be. You knew what she was up to. Spill it. Why did you attack Cas?”

“Dean, wait –“ Castiel started.

“Answer me quickly, you bitch!” yelled Dean, ignoring him. “Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Yes!” yelled Meg. Dean was so surprised he took a moment to blink, astonished. Meg panted helplessly. “Yes, this was the plan. But please, let me explain –“

Dean punched her in the face as hard as he could, making a horrible cracking noise and making her grunt and fall backwards. His knew his knuckles should hurt like hell, but they didn’t, not yet.

“Dean!” called Castiel from behind him and took a few steps forward. Dean looked at him.

“What? She deserves it!” Dean yelled defensively.

“She tried to stop Lilith from hurting me,” Castiel said and Dean frowned. “Lilith was the one who hit her before, not me. She brought her in the dome in this condition.”

Meg coughed, and Dean turned to look at her. She put her weight on her elbow and wiped the blood away from her mouth, looking at her palm and licking her lips. “Thanks, pretty boy, that really makes it easier for me to explain,” she said.

“Don’t fuck with me,” growled Dean. “Spill everything. _Now_. There’s a battle outside raging, and I’m here wondering why the hell a person who deserted her homeland to help the enemies and who actually _did_ help her enemies would now turn against her new companions as well. You having abandonment issues or somethin’?”

“Will you give me the chance to speak or are you planning on punching me again?” asked Meg.

“You’re way too smug for a fucking double-crosser,” said Dean. “If I like what I hear, maybe I won’t punch you again. Now spill!”

Meg looked at Castiel before speaking, and she took a moment to sit up straight; from outside, there was a scream and a violent bang on top of the dome and then a crash from somewhere close to the hole Castiel had created, and Dean figured someone had fallen off their dragon. He didn’t care.

“Where do you want me to start?” asked Meg.

“The beginning would be nice,” Dean said. “Why did you desert your army? Why did you come here to join?”

“I didn’t desert my side,” Meg explained. “I was sent here on a mission, under Lucifer’s orders. I needed to earn your trust.”

“And you did that by actually harming your side by leading us to the hostages?”

“Lucifer didn’t care about them,” Meg said. “That’s why he hadn’t harmed them. He was looking for some of them that might be useful, but he had mostly forgotten about them. We though they would be a good leverage for me to take advantage of.”

Dean felt his fist itch, but Castiel’s arm brushed against his own unexpectedly softly for someone sixteen feet tall, stopping him.

“What were you after?” Castiel asked calmly.

Meg looked at him straight in the eyes. “You, of course. What else?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Meg chuckled and spit some blood. “Come on now, honey-face,” she said. “You know what pretty Castiel is, don’t you? You’ve seen him turn.”

“I – I don’t know what you’re –“

“Yes you do. He’s a Seglaag. _The_ Seglaag. And I was sent to find him.”

Dean’s head felt like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces scattered across the horizon. “How did you know –“

Meg rolled her eyes. “His egg was found inside an Elavorni ship, remember? We knew what he was from the beginning. Lucifer knows the prophecies by heart, and he’s spent years studying them. He needed the Seglaag to either join our side and teach Lucifer its secrets, or to be eliminated so that the Capital wouldn’t have a chance of winning. If there’s no Seglaag, there’s no prophecy, and if there’s no prophecy, any side can win; Lucifer was planning to make sure that our side was the one to do so.”

“You knew what Cas was from the beginning?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t know _which one_ the Seglaag was,” Meg said. “I knew he would be a young one, but it could be Samandriel, for all I knew. But when Gordon said that he’d seen Castiel turn into a winged human… well, who would be stupid enough to make up such a lie? Then I knew what he was, and that I needed to take him out as soon as possible.”

Castiel snorted angrily, but Dean spoke first. “So your Queen takes the prophecies seriously?” he asked. “You guys don’t even usually believe in angels. Why would she give the order to pursue their offspring?”

“We aren’t loyal to the _Queen,_ ” Meg said, with an expression as if Dean had asked her to tongue-kiss a feeding starfish. “Queen Eve’s orders were different. Just as your King doesn’t care for the aviators anymore, our Queen doesn’t care for us, either. She just wants the war to keep going; that’s all we know.”

“She wants what?” Dean asked.

“Why would she want something like that?” asked Castiel. “Anyone in charge of a war wants to win. Why would your Queen want to postpone the results?”

“I don’t know,” said Meg. “All I know is that Lucifer _wants_ the war to end, and that he decided to disobey the Queen’s orders to bring us victory.”

“By sending you here to either recruit or kill Cas,” Dean suggested, and Meg nodded. “But you didn’t try to recruit him, did you? You went straight into killing him.”

“He wouldn’t have come with me,” said Meg. “He’s too loyal. I had to obey my orders.”

“Then why didn’t you?” asked Castiel. “Why did you try and stop Lilith from killing me?”

“Because I changed my mind, all right?” Meg snapped. She looked at them both, taking a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I didn’t want to kill you, Castiel. You trusted me when I came here, and I know you shouldn’t have, but you did. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been accepted here. I couldn’t attack you.”

“Go to hell,” Cas spat at her. Dean blinked; he’d never heard Cas like that before. “You used me. You tricked us and I helped you, because I was foolish enough to believe that you had a tiny speck of decency inside your treacherous soul. You should have tried to kill me when you still had the chance.”

“ _Please_ , Castiel,” Meg begged. “I know you feel like you can’t trust me, but don’t you see it? I felt terrible for tricking you. I was loyal to Lucifer, yes, but I didn’t want to trick you anymore. I felt so terrible; you had trusted me and I was betraying you every day. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to harm you. You truly are made of something angelic, and it made me want to change sides for good.”

Silence followed her words, broken only by the sounds of battle outside. Dean couldn’t decipher Castiel’s expression. Meg was breathing heavily; Lilith stirred once or twice.

“I will give you _one_ chance,” Castiel said slowly, his voice low, making Dean shudder. “You have crossed everyone so many times that you deserve no mercy. You have once chance to fight with us. If you fail, I will destroy you myself.”

“Wait, Cas,” Dean protested. “You gonna let her… what, join our side again? She tried to kill you!”

“No, she didn’t. Lilith did. And we need to fight, Dean, no matter what Michael says.”

Dean turned to Meg again. “Okay, you need to tell us more,” he said. “Do you know why Queen Eve doesn’t want the war to end?”

“I’ve no idea,” Meg answered, “but I’d say Michael has the same orders from your Council. Why else wouldn’t your side try to free the hostages earlier?”

Dean frowned. He remembered the night when Castiel had shared some of his suspicions with him and Sam, and, damn, was there any chance the two sides were actually messing with them all?

But _why?_

“Okay, new plan,” Dean announced, uncertainly. “We need to find out what’s going on, politics-wise.”

“Dean, there’s a _battle_ outside,” Castiel pointed out.

“Yes, where our people and the Elavorni are being killed by the minute,” said Dean. “Do any of you know whether Michael and Jody talked to the Council yesterday?”

“Yes, they did,” said Meg. “The Council is furious. They said they would try to help, but nothing is certain.”

“Who told you that?” Dean asked.

“Jess did. She spoke to Gabriel about it.”

“And let me ask you something else,” Dean continued, “if we do find what’s going on, what side will you take?”

“I don’t have a side anymore, you dumbass,” said Meg. “My orders were to kill Castiel or recruit him, and I disobeyed. If Lucifer finds out, he’ll snap me in half. But I can’t kill Castiel, and I won’t, and so the war will continue indefinitely. I don’t want Queen Eve and King Roman and the Council to keep playing with us, so I’ll just join whatever side gives me the chance to fight against them both.”

“Are you sure of this?” Castiel asked.

“Are you joking? I’ve betrayed everyone,” Meg said. “Look, I want the war to stop, okay? I was born in Elavorn, so I was fighting for that side. If Elavorn won, the war would be over. Now I’m a traitor to them, so I can’t go back, they’ll kill me. If I stay here, this side will kill me for tricking them. What choice do I have? I’d rather die trying for this bullshit to stop than be hanged in the central square.”

“Desperation and a nothing-left-to-lose attitude. That’s what I’m looking for in a partner in crime,” sighed Dean. “Okay. Do you think Lilith will help or do we need to act without her?”

“Lilith is loyal to Lucifer,” Meg admitted reluctantly. “She had no idea that I would stop her from attacking Castiel. Well, neither did I, but I had my doubts for a while. I will try to convince her, but –“

“We don’t have time for that,” said Castiel. “She has an open wound. Dean, give me the bottle.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I am. We’ll keep a human under control far easier than we would a dragon.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Meg, confused, but Dean was already going through the soft, dry grass that made Castiel’s nest, and took out one bottle of blood. He decided to not be creeped out. He looked at Castiel.

“Okay, what do we do with it?”

Castiel didn’t answer, but looked at Meg instead. “Don’t even dare to act surprised at what you see,” he told her. “If you want to help, you’ll just do as you’re told, and we’ll never tell anyone that your purpose was to murder whoever turned out to be the Seglaag and sabotage the army. Are we clear?”

“Are you saying these out loud so that there’s a chance for someone to pass by and I can be punished without you breaking your word?” asked Meg bitterly.

“Yes,” said Castiel. “But nobody heard, so _are we clear?”_

“Yes,” Meg sighed.

“You will not protest at anything that happens, and you will not comment on anything unnecessary,” Castiel continued.

“Well, I can’t guarantee you I won’t comment, but yeah, I’m all yours, big boy.”

Dean really, really wanted to punch her again, but he restrained himself. “You take care of Lilith,” he told Castiel. “If you wanna turn, that would be great. A human-shaped creature will draw far less attention from above, okay? I’m gonna go see what’s happening outside.” Cas nodded and approached Lilith as Dean made sure his gun was ready to shoot and slowly looked outside the dome. The sky was dark and it was raining heavily. The ground was lost under debris and pieces of former buildings and bodies and blood and dust. Dean squinted and raised his neckcloth to cover his nose and mouth so that he could breathe more easily. Screams and beating wings and thunder mixed with each other and made a horrible mess of a noise that made Dean cringe. He’d been in battles before, but not like this. Never like this.

He looked up and saw the battle was still raging on. There were significantly fewer dragons than before, but the rain prevented Dean from figuring out which side had lost the most. Maybe, he thought, _maybe_ they had just moved the battle somewhere else, _maybe_ his people hadn’t died.

Most of all, Dean wanted to go to the arena and see how Sam was doing; because fuck, Sam was definitely still there. There was no possible scenario inside Dean’s head that included Sam not being there in the morning. But if he wanted to reach it, he needed to find some ammo first. There was no chance he’d get there without any bullets left.

Dean ducked under the broken pieces of something that must have been a wall in some previous life and managed to crawl into a building that used to be a supply room. No matter how strong the stone walls were, a stray shot had melted a hole into the ceiling, right above the shelves with the salted meat, leaving the stones sizzling under the pouring rain. Dean stepped over a dead body – a newcomer, he noticed – and moved to the cupboards on the other side of the room. He opened one, finding nothing but flour and sugar sacks inside. The second one contained leather and fabrics; he searched a bit and found a couple of good leather armours and a few pieces of clothing. He took a half-empty sack of sugar from the previous cupboard and pushed the clothes inside, after pouring the sugar into another sack to not let it go to waste. The next cupboard was right what he wanted; shackles, bullets, weaponry. Thank the Gods for them having moved to Boreas as quickly as possible, taking with them only what was necessary, and using only one building to temporarily store everything; it just made things so much easier.

Dean took a couple more bullet belts that he hung around his torso, a few more knives that he hid between the folds and openings of his clothes and armour, and a hand crossbow with a few arrows that he stacked in a small pouch he hung on his belt. He took a pair of dragon steel handcuffs and another pair that looked like leg shackles, and a length of rope he looped around his torso, opposite to the spare bullets. He almost left, but his eye caught a few things in the bottom of the cupboard; he looked at the goggles down there and brought them to his eyes; the lens were adjustable, making them work like binoculars. Gordon’s name was carved on one side. Well, pity for Gordon; he shouldn’t leave his stuff behind. Dean took the goggles without a second thought. He ignored some small knives and a couple of guns, but he took a small weapon that looked interesting; it looked like a very short gun, but its grip was made out of four brass rings that made it look a lot like brass knuckles; it also had a small, very thin knife which unlocked from under the barrel. Dean quickly thought of every possible way this little bastard could be used, wondered for a moment why the fuck hadn’t he been taught how to use it before, and took it immediately, pushing his fingers through the brass knuckles and holding on to the small barrel and the tiny folded knife, after making sure the hammer was locked. He grabbed another sword and tied it to his waist to give it to Cas, and left everything else in the bottom of the cupboard. Lastly, he approached the dead body; it was macabre and maybe an awful thing to do, but Dean took the poor man’s cloak. Castiel and possibly Lilith had some extra appendages to hide.

Dean peeked through the hole, making sure the stones had cooled from the rain. Outside, all hell was breaking loose. People who stayed in the ground had no chance, and Dean tried very, very hard not to think of the simple fact that Sam was somewhere down there.

Dean waited until a branded Emeray passed by, spitting acid on the baths building and bringing down the roof, and jumped out of the hole, running like crazy back to the dome. He got inside panting and checked what was going on.

Meg was making tourniquets out of her tunic’s sleeves for a woman Dean did not recognise at first; then he realised Lilith, dragon Lilith, was nowhere to be seen, and it clicked.

The woman wasn’t particularly tall. Her neck and throat were injured, bleeding, and she had cuts all over her body. She was blonde and elegant, and Dean would have thought she was beautiful if she hadn’t that murderous look on her face or if her eyes hadn’t been milky white. She had white scales scattered around her body, and as Dean passed by her and Meg to go to Castiel, he saw two huge red lines of swollen skin on her back, where her wings should be.

Cas was also on his humanoid form, sitting down on his nest, looking very small. He was pale and sweaty, panting, looking tired. His wings were folded behind him and he longingly looked towards Dean as the aviator approached him.

“I suppose it worked, then?” said Dean, glancing towards Meg and Lilith. Meg looked a bit lost and Lilith hissed at him.

“Obviously,” said Castiel. “I didn’t manage at first. It turns out I need the other one to cooperate before they can be turned, and that took a while.”

“How did you manage?” asked Dean, letting down all the things he had taken from the storage room and tossing at Lilith a tunic, a pair of pants and boots, honestly not caring if they’d fit her properly.

“I told her that if she didn’t let us control her in her human form, I’d have to gut her in her dragon form because I don’t like to be worried about being double-crossed again.”

Huh. So Castiel could really be a tough son of a bitch when he wanted to.

“Here,” said Dean, giving Castiel the spare armour he’d found. “I’ll have to poke holes through it for your wings, but I think it will do if you want to walk around like this.”

“Thank you,” said Castiel, wiping his brow, and took the clothes gently from Dean. Dean kept only the upper part of the armour to cut the holes. As Castiel stepped away from them to get dressed, Meg approached Dean.

“Shackle her up,” Dean commanded, giving Meg the chains for Lilith. “And make sure she doesn’t leave, or you’re both dead.”

“Yes, I got that, big guy.” said Meg and snatched the shackles. She looked at them, turning them around in her hands for a moment. “Wow. I can’t believe Lilith can fit into these”.

“Well, I couldn’t believe Cas could fit into my coat either, but you know how surprising creatures emerging out of prophecies can be.”

Meg chuckled awkwardly and then glanced up at Castiel, smirking. Dean followed her gaze; Castiel was dressing up, working on the various buckles and straps of his armour and clothing, which he hadn’t had to work with for months. His silver feathers twitched in annoyance, and Dean was surprised to find himself understanding their movement. He watched as the silver and blue patterns on Castiel’s skin shifted along with his well-sculpted muscles, and tried not to focus on the small of Castiel’s back.

“Well, he’s all kinds of gorgeous, don’t you think?” commented Meg, and Dean’s head almost snapped on his shoulders as he turned to look at her, but she had already let down the shackles and was moving towards Castiel. Dean watched furiously, forced to put Lilith in shackles himself under her murderous gaze, as Meg approached Cas and helped him tie the laces of his pants. Castiel had turned red all over, and Dean really didn’t need anything to distract and piss him off any more right now.

 _Calm down,_ Dean thought to himself urgently, _stop looking at him like that, remember what he is._

Castiel’s eyes shot up to Dean’s face _. I’m not looking at anyone. What are you talking about?_

It was Dean’s turn to get all flustered. _It was nothing, I’m thinking of stuff. Keep going. We need to go. And she doesn’t need to touch you_ there _, unless you fucking_ want _her to._

Castiel took a step back from Meg’s touch and came closer to Dean, still blushing. Dean tried to convince his brain none of his previous thoughts were real, so he just held the leather armour for Castiel to pass his arms and wings through, and helped him with the laces in the front. He tried very hard not to touch Castiel’s skin; he realised he had never, ever touched him ever since he changed so much, not in his humanoid form, anyway. _Oh, Gods, help me. I’m completely gone and it makes sense even less than the previous times. What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“There,” Dean said, a little shakily, as he finished buckling up the armour. It was a bit tight for Castiel in the shoulders and the pants were a little loose, but it worked. Cas had managed to put on the protectors on his forearms, shoulders, knees and shins correctly, and the belt on his waist was buckled and tied just fine; he couldn’t wear chainmail because of his wings, so his arms were bare. Dean gave him a pair of boots and Castiel tried them on, but kicked them off right away; he said having something between his feet and the ground felt strange, and remained barefoot. Dean gave him the sword he’d found, but Castiel refused it; he did accept the cloak to hide his wings, though, and when Dean suggested he at least tied his messy hair back to prevent it from getting in the way, he took one of Dean’s knives without permission, held his hair back and cut it all off with a circular movement around his scalp. He shook his head to get rid of the remaining hairs, and ignored the few longer wisps that fell on his neck.

Dean took a step back and looked at him, genuinely impressed. Maybe Dean was biased because of his confusing feelings, but Castiel looked _really fucking good_ with his hair short. Dean wished he had more time to stare at him, but of course, he also wished he had become a dancer instead of a soldier; you couldn’t have everything, could you?

He sighed. “Okay then,” he said, “we’re ready. Meg, take Lilith and follow us. Cas, take those bottles and keep an eye on them. We’re going out there.”

“What’s the plan, exactly?” asked Meg, taking Lilith’s chains in her hands almost apologetically.

“I don’t know yet,” said Dean. “We’ll make it up as we go. Our goal is to find out what our governments are up to, and if we have to stop the battle ourselves and invade the Capital, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll need to find Sam first, and then we’ll see.”

“Perfect,” Meg murmured.

Castiel didn’t say anything, he only nodded. Dean didn’t need anything else. He took a deep breath and got out of the dome, feeling the stench of the battlefield in his nose and the pouring rain on his face.

It was _on_.


	16. Bodies

Dean led the way to the arena, running a few yards, ducking under destroyed parts of buildings, shooting a few times. He could hear Meg following behind him, the occasional clang of her unsheathed sword bumping on fallen debris, and he could hear Lilith’s shackles and disoriented footsteps. He just knew Castiel was behind them without having to hear him; Dean had chosen to keep a connection with him, not completely, just strong enough to feel his presence.

The rain was pouring down on them mercilessly, and Dean couldn’t see a thing  in the sky above. He could hear the blasts distantly, and sometimes flashes of lightning and fire shots would illuminate the dark shapes attacking each other, but that was it. Dean had no idea what time it was, but he was surprised their dragons were holding up so long. He managed to lead Cas, Meg and Lilith to the arena in less than ten minutes, while the noise from above seemed to get louder. Thank Heavens, the arena seemed intact, if one didn’t take into account the various scratches and burns and blood marks on it.

Dean kicked the door in and pulled Meg inside, leaving Castiel outside to guard Lilith; it would be better if anyone still inside didn’t see them yet. Dean passed through the tiny hall with Meg on his heels, and noticed that almost nothing could be heard inside the arena. After all, it was the sturdiest building in Boreas, built to withstand fighting dragons inside it; it was bound to be a little soundproof.

“Sam?” Dean called, putting his gun back in its holster. He tried to listen for any sounds from the arena, and he felt Meg sheathe her sword and stop moving as well.

“Over there,” she said, pointing towards one of the side rooms surrounding the main arena. They ran towards it and, indeed, Dean could hear voices coming from inside.

“Sam!” he called again, starting to feel his heart race inside his chest.

“Dean?” came the answer, and Dean suddenly felt a weight leave his chest. The door opened, letting Dean finally lay eyes on Sam, and his breath caught in his throat. Sam had removed his military coat, and Dean guessed the tourniquet around his left thigh used to be a part of the coat a few hours ago. The sleeves of his tunic were rolled above his chain mail and his hands were as bloody as the rest of him. His hair was tied back in a messy little ponytail and there were dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise he looked healthy. He barely even limped.

He ran and hugged Dean so hard that Dean thought he’d explode.

“God, Sammy –“

“You’re okay,” muttered Sam. “Shit, thank heavens, you’re okay. I was so worried, there are so many dead –“

“I know, Sammy, I know,” said Dean, and pushed Sam away gently. “Michael didn’t let me fight.”

“Meg either?” asked Sam. “Why?”

Dean looked at Meg and sighed. “Well, I’m still in suspension, and Lilith went a little bit out of her head. Meg’s helping us out.”

“With what?” asked Sam as he led Dean and Meg into the room. A couple dozen soldiers were in there, mostly helping each other out; most were injured and all were loudly crying, comforting the others, or yelling for bandages.

“Look, I don’t have much time to explain,” said Dean in a low voice, even though he was sure that with all the fuss around them there was no need to try and be subtle. “Something’s very wrong in the government.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You think?”

“No, genius, I mean really, really wrong,” Dean insisted. “Like, _specifically_ wrong. Me and Meg found out that both the Council and Elavorn don’t want the war to end. Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?”

Sam frowned. “Why on Earth –“

“Exactly. So we need to find out what’s going on, and quickly.”

“Dean, this is insane,” said Sam. “How did you find out, anyway? And how the hell are you going to expose a conspiracy or something? To whom are you going to expose it, if both governments are corrupt?”

“Don’t you want the war to end?” asked Meg. “If you do, just help us!”

Sam looked completely lost. “How?”

“First of all, we need to stop the battle,” Dean said, without really knowing if a plan was forming inside his head or whether he was just making stuff up. “If we make Michael and Lucifer listen to us, then –“

“Then what, Dean?” asked Sam. “Then they’ll just go back to killing each other. Do you think they’ll just stop because an officer told them so? They’ll just keep fighting because they’re used to it. The Royalty’s orders are encouraging the war, and that’s what Lucifer and Michael will remember.”

“Lucifer is _defying_ his queen by attacking your capital”, Meg pointed out. “There was no official order to attack. Lucifer’s doing it because he wants to.” She looked at Dean. “How do you plan on stopping the battle, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Dean snapped. “I need to try, though. Cas might have an idea, he’s the Chosen One or whatever. If we fly up there with Cas in all his angelic glory or something, then –“

Dean was interrupted by a huge crash from the roof of the arena. The building shook and the screeches from outside grew louder. The people in the room were talking all together, and Sam had to yell at them to make them stop.

They all looked up.

“What the hell?” muttered Dean.

The roof trembled. Dean’s eyes widened and he looked at Sam before he heard the walls rumbling.

“Run!” he yelled, and pushed Sam towards the exit. Meg and the people in the room tried to follow, most of them screaming in fear, helping each other stand up. Hideous cracking noises, almost deafening, sounded around the building. Dean ran, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it, and he wondered what Cas was doing outside.

They were in the tiny hall when the building collapsed atop them.

* * *

 

Dean felt lightheaded, as if he’d had too much to drink. His skin was slippery from the rain and his human clothes slowed him down. He was worried, worried that he couldn’t protect his friends, that he couldn’t fly as fast with his wings so much smaller than usual, and –

No, wait, Dean couldn’t be worried about these things. It was Cas. Oh, Gods, Cas was still alive, and worried, so very worried. Dean didn’t know what had happened to his own body, and he had no idea when he had crawled into Castiel’s head again or whether Cas could feel his presence. All he knew was that he could see things differently, through a haze, through a vortex of emotions that weren’t his own. No, he couldn’t really see anything; he could feel, though, that was what he was doing.

Castiel was not paying attention to the stowaway inside his head. Dean felt the blood freeze inside his own veins, and his mind was filled with a primal terror and a large shadow with two dozen wings and razor-sharp teeth, radiating fear and an ancient intelligence and authority. Castiel was standing still, hidden under the debris, and Dean didn’t know why his faithful companion wasn’t looking for him.

Then he saw white lightning and his head exploded – he couldn’t tell if it was his own or Cas’. Dean spread his wings angrily – no, no, _Castiel_ did – and the immobility was gone. A pure, terrifying wrath twisted Castiel’s guts, and Dean felt flesh ripping under his own claws and the taste of blood in his mouth.

The arena was hit again, a heavy impact that was the final straw. Dean was shocked back into his body, and his world was dark again.

* * *

 

“Dean. Dean.” _Dean. I know you’re alive. Wake up, damn you, wake up_.

Dean felt a weight get lifted from his body, and he had no idea whether it was the numbness of sleep or pieces of the building. He wondered if he was inside Cas’ head again. He tried to feel his wings and immediately felt stupid. He groaned, unable to open his eyes, and felt joy that _definitely_ wasn’t his own.

 _Cas? Oh, crap, I can’t even move_.

_You will soon. You haven’t broken anything. Dean, I’m so sorry, I –_

_It’s not your fault, Cas_. Wait, Dean didn’t know that for a fact. _Is it?_

“Is he okay?”

Well, that was way too hoarse, but it was definitely Sam. Dean tried to focus on his body parts again. Nothing seemed to be missing, and there wasn’t the feeling of anything extra. Good, his mind was focused on the right meat suit. He realised the rain was still falling on his face and that the world smelt of dust and blood and mud. He opened his eyes with difficulty, and, thank Heavens, the first thing he saw above him was Castiel’s worried face, still human.

“Cas,” he murmured. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

Castiel smiled at him, and the sight made Dean’s already messed up stomach flip. Cas turned around and looked at someone else. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, he’s alright.”

Dean heard Sam sigh in relief, and he had no clue what was going on around him. He tried to sit up, failed, and just lifted his head to look around.

The village was in ruins. Almost every building was destroyed, and tiny fires were still burning between the rain puddles. The dome, half the storage room, and a couple of buildings were still standing, but even they were blackened and looked as if they’d been abandoned for decades. Dead bodies of both dragons and humans lay everywhere. Dean looked up at the sky; the battle had stopped. People were walking around him, standing somewhere close, taking care of their wounds and their injured friends; Sam was close, but he was occupied with something Dean couldn’t quite see.

“What happened?” he asked weakly. Castiel held out his hand and pulled him up; he looked… almost ashamed.

“Remember those dragons that belong to the Council?” asked Castiel. Dean nodded; he was still holding Castiel’s hand as the latter was leading him through the debris to the road that was still kind of clear. “It turns out that the Council did find out about the attack, and they brought their own dragons out. I couldn’t still can’t believe it, Dean. Those creatures, they are… they’re hundreds of years old. I’ve never seen anything like them. They were terrifying. I froze.”

Dean gulped. He remembered the shadow over his head from before, the dark threat from above. “They brought down the arena?” he asked.

“Not all of it,” Cas said, and hesitated. “Dean, I…“ He stopped and sighed. “Lilith escaped while you were in there. She said something about Meg betraying her and broke her chains. She tried to leave, and I hunted her down. I didn’t mean to, but I – I –“

“You killed her,” Dean muttered.

“Yes.”

Dean remembered the feeling of sinking his teeth into flesh, and realised that it would haunt his dreams for a good while. He squeezed Castiel’s hand, not knowing what else to do. He sat on a piece of rock that used to be a part of a house, pulled Cas down too, and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Castiel said quietly. “I mean, I know she was going to betray us, she had tried to kill me and she would have again, but Meg is devastated. They spent so many years together, Dean, and I ended it.”

“She dug her own grave, Cas,” Dean muttered, rubbing gentle circles on Castiel’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I hate killing.”

“I know, Cas. I know,” said Dean. “Nobody likes it. And those who do ain’t people you should take into account.”

“If she hadn’t run off –“

“I know.”

“No, if she hadn’t run off, I might have had the time to pull you out,” Castiel said. “She flew off and I hunted her down, and I didn’t realise you were in danger until the Council dragons were already too close. I mean, I had seen them, they’d blasted half the arena already, but I thought we were safe.”

“Cas, I know,” said Dean, pulling the other man’s body closer to him, trying to comfort him. “I could see everything. I don’t know why, but I was still connected to you. I know what it was like.”

“You were in my head?” asked Castiel, surprised.

“Up until the second explosion in the arena,” admitted Dean. “And it wasn’t very clear. After that I blacked out. But I know you tried, Cas.”

“I didn’t try enough,” said Castiel, looking away. “I could have helped more. I was so occupied fighting with Lilith and getting you out of here that I didn’t try to help the others. I should have been taken with them, but I couldn’t leave you behind. I couldn’t leave without making sure you were okay.”

“Wait a second. What do you mean taken?”

“After the Council’s dragons came, the battle was over within a couple of minutes. Everyone, our own and the Elavorni alike, have been taken away.”

“What do you mean? Taken away to where?” Dean asked.

“To the capital, we think,” said Castiel. “They arrested almost everyone. I was down here trying to find a way to get you out, so they didn’t see me, but –“

“How did they even manage to capture a regiment of _dragons_?” Dean asked desperately. He couldn’t imagine Michael letting anyone capture him.

“The Council’s dragons couldn’t be attacked easily. They were wearing dragon steel,” Castiel explained, looking almost embarrassed. “They used chains of the same material to capture our army. The battle was over before we even noticed. Dean, how do we even fix this?

“We’ll find a way,” Dean promised, hoping he sounded way more confident than he actually was. He sighed. “Cas, I –“

Dean was interrupted by the beating of wings and the thump of a dragon landing. He jumped in surprise, but then he saw Gabriel approaching them, limping slightly.

“Gabriel?” he asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Guess who finished off the arena,” Gabriel said grimly. Dean looked at Cas.

“Wait, he was the thing that fell on the building the second time?”

“The Council’s dragons thought he was dead,” Castiel explained. “That’s why they left him behind. He helped pull out everyone who was left when the Council dragons had gone.”

“What about Jess?” Dean asked, and he didn’t need the foreign sadness inside his head to tell him he shouldn’t have asked. Gabriel’s expression darkened; he didn’t speak. Castiel looked away.

Dean gulped and looked at Sam again, and only then did he realise what his brother was doing. Jess’ body was lying in his arms; he was rocking her back and forth, gently, lovingly.

“Shit,” Dean murmured.

“It’s personal now, Dean-o,” Gabriel said coldly. “Cassie here told me about what’s been happening with you two. I want in.”

Dean only then realised that Gabriel was seeing Cas in all his non-dragon glory. He looked at each of them separately.

“Don’t look so surprised, Winchester,” said Gabriel. “I’m old enough. I’ve heard the stories about the magical angel-dragon hybrids or whatever crap the prophecies talk about. Right now, I don’t even care. All I want is for this to stop. I’m gonna help anyone who _makes_ it stop, and right now, you guys are the one to do it.”

Dean shared a glance with Castiel. “So… you’re with us? That’s what you’re saying?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Gabriel said.

“Do you even know the plan? _We_ don’t even know the plan,” Dean pointed out.

Gabriel leaned towards Dean, his enormous head only inches from the aviator’s face, the rain droplets glistening on his copper scales. “Listen here,” he growled. “You wanna know why I’ll fight on your side? I’ll freaking tell you why. I was born in Elavorn, in the same nest as Lucifer. Their army captured us when we were already maturing, because back then dragons were captured, not bred. I escaped when Lucifer started going all trigger-happy, and I turned myself into a hermit, even though I hated it. This war has separated me not only from my brother, but from every other dragon and human alike. I didn’t decide to join your side and fight Lucifer because of a personal grudge, but because I believed he was playing foul and he was going to push himself into destruction. I had lost almost every ray of hope. And now, just as I found the first person to ride on my back and to actually connect to, the side I chose _betrays the freaking side I chose_ and leads to an attack that gets this poor girl killed. Yes, I’ll fucking fight on your side, Dean-o. But don’t you dare think I’m fighting for _you_. I’m fighting for myself, and because I want those bastards dead and suffering.”

Dean could only stare back, astonished. “Okay. Thanks,” he said in the end, not finding anything else to say. “I’m really sorry, you know. I had no idea.”

Gabriel just nodded. “Yeah, I made sure of that,” he said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“I believe every plan we had pretty much collapsed along with the arena and the rest of the village,” Castiel commented. “The regiment is gone and the only way to talk to Michael and Lucifer is to break into the dungeons in which they’re probably being kept.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

He expected them to refuse, call him mad, laugh at him maybe, but they didn’t. Castiel gave him one of those smiles invisible to the untrained eye, and Gabriel nodded.

“We’re going to need everyone here,” Gabriel pointed out. “There’s not many of us, but that might be for the best. They’ll never see us coming.”

“We’ll have to leave the surviving newcomers behind,” said Dean. “They’ve already suffered enough, and I don’t even know if they managed anything.”

“They did shoot down a few aviators and a couple of dragons,” Gabriel informed him, “but you’re right. They don’t have the training for something like that. They’ll be more of a burden than help.”

“How are we going to find where they keep the others?” asked Castiel.

“Are all of you batshit crazy?”

Dean turned around to see Meg standing behind him. Her hair was sticking on her face and shoulders, and her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was a mask of pain and anger.

“Do you even realise our position?” Meg exclaimed. “There are literally five of us left! How on earth are we going to sneak into the Capital and, what? Free the others? Gain Michael and Lucifer’s trust and get a couple of medals on the way, while we’re betraying the Council? We’re done for! How can you not see it?”

“What do you propose we do, then?” asked Dean. “Sit here and wait for them to come back and kill us? You said that you wanted the war to end.”

“It _has ended_ , you moron,” spat Meg. “Nobody won. The armies are destroyed. Both sides are imprisoned in the Capital, and undoubtedly will be executed soon. The aviators were the strongest part of both armies, and now they’re lost. Do you think it will take much time for them to bring down the rest of the military?”

“The aviators aren’t lost,” said Castiel. “Not as long as you two are still standing.”

“Yeah, nice words from someone who has a fucking prophecy covering his ass,” sneered Meg. “I didn’t see you giving your blood to end the war, sweetheart. You only spilled Lilith’s. I wish I’d never stopped her from killing you.”

“And I wish I hadn’t trusted you in the first place,” Castiel answered calmly, “but I can’t change the past. I did not enjoy taking Lilith’s life, but it was her or me. I had warned her. She could have helped our purpose, which I believe was yours too up to about half an hour ago.”

“My dragon is _dead,_ ” Meg hissed. “Lucifer, the one I followed all my life, and every person I knew back home, either thinks me a traitor or is imprisoned by the side I chose to follow. My new home is demolished; both sides are going to put me to death if they find out what I did. My life has no meaning. Why the hell should I go on a suicide mission on top of everything? My skin’s all I have left.”

“Then you’d better fucking risk that as well,” came Sam’s voice from the back. Dean turned around and looked at his brother. Sam’s face was as bloodied and dusty as it had been before the arena had collapsed, but the dirt was broken by streaks of tears down his cheeks. His eyes were watery and his fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.

“Don’t you dare fucking speak in front of me about loss,” Sam growled. “You brought this upon yourself. You sit there and brag about how you double-crossed everyone and you fucking cry about losing your dragon? You picked your own sides! Why did Jessica have to die, huh? She was only defending herself and the people she cared about. Why was she killed? You answer me that!”

“Sammy –“ Dean started, and got closer to his brother, but Sam shoved him away.

“Dean, you better take that treacherous piece of shit away from me or I’m going to kill her with my own hands.”

“We need every pair of hands that we can use, Sammy,” Dean said, even if he pretty much agreed with Sam on this. “If she doesn’t help, there’s only four of us.”

“Yeah, big difference. We’re all gonna die anyway.”

“Oh, shut your cakehole,” said Gabriel. “Use Jessica’s death as a reason for revenge and stop moaning. If I’m willing to be skinned alive for her, so should you.”

“We can’t do this,” Meg insisted before Sam had time to answer. “We should just disappear. They probably think we’re dead anyway.”

“We will _not_ disappear,” Castiel said coldly. “When I came here, I said that the only reason for becoming a soldier was to help end the war. The war isn’t over for me when my friends are kept imprisoned. How dare you give up on yours?”

“The friends I cared about are dead already, Castiel,” Meg answered quietly, but Dean thought she looked ashamed. She didn’t say anything more, and Castiel didn’t insist.

“We should leave as quickly as possible,” said Dean. “We don’t know how much time we have.”

“First of all, we need to rest,” Gabriel pointed out. “We should think of a plan in the meantime, and _then_ we can sneak into the city. We can use Castiel’s gas-breathing to distract the guards when we get there, and –“

“I can’t breathe gas, Gabriel,” Castiel reminded him calmly.

“Oh, come on”, Gabriel groaned. “You’re a freaking angelic hybrid and you can’t breathe gas? _Still?”_

“I apologise for the inconvenience.”

“Anyway, what we need to do first is –“

“What we need to do first,” Dean interrupted Gabriel, “is camouflage your dragon ass so that nobody notices that there’s one of you still alive around here, in case they come check.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t actually want me to go through that voodoo stuff and shrink myself into one of those pathetic meatsuits?”

“You guessed it, big boy,” said Dean. “Cas, I hope there’s a bottle still left in the dome. You’ll find clothes for Gabe in the storage room.” He looked sideways at Sam, and then at Meg, who were both puffy-eyed and still sobbing silently, and still glaring at each other from time to time. Dean reached for Castiel’s mind, as he said, “I’ll stay here for a while, okay?” _Please, please, be safe, Cas. We’ll make it, I promise._

Castiel nodded. _I know we will. I trust you._

_I trust you more._

Castiel looked at Gabriel. “Come on. I’ll take care of everything, but you need to cooperate.”

“Like hell I will,” muttered Gabriel, but he followed Castiel towards the dome. Dean heard him murmur something like, “He fuckin’ called me _Gabe_. And _you_ look ridiculous,” as they left.

Dean looked at Sam and Meg again; they were both devastated and unable to move, that was clear. The village around them was pretty much gone, but there were a few survivors around who were already either taking care of the bodies or looking for others. Somewhere towards the northern gate, Lilith’s body lay still, and Dean wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before.

The rain had almost stopped.

Dean took a deep breath. He slapped his hands on his thighs and pressed himself up. “Okay,” he said. “There’s lots of work to be done. Let’s get to business.”

To Dean’s surprise, both Sam and Meg got up and headed towards groups of soldiers to help out. Dean watched them for a moment, and then sighed.

Time to work.

* * *

 

The main purpose of the remaining soldiers and aviators alike, when they started cleaning up the mess, was to check for survivors and take care of the bodies. They couldn’t possibly do that without tidying up the village a little as well, so by the end of the day, most debris had been cleared, the fallen pieces of the buildings were neatly stored in the spots where the actual buildings had been, and the dead were all in the middle of the arena, placed next to each other. Out of the seventy-six new recruits, forty-seven lay dead, and twenty-one couldn’t move due to their injuries. Dean wished they looked like they were asleep, but real life was rarely like one of those damn stories he used to read to Sammy. Most of the soldiers’ expressions were pained, terrified, surprised; others were missing limbs or were already burnt or deformed beyond recognition. Dean thanked the Gods that Jessica had died when Gabriel was shot down, so she was one of the most peaceful dead; alright, she did have a broken spine, but when she lay down, then yes, she could be mistaken for sleeping. Someone had even managed to close her eyes before the stiffness kicked in.

There weren’t any other aviators among the dead. Of course, the remaining ones had no idea what was happening in the capital right now, so they may actually have more friends to mourn eventually, if the Council decided to execute the captive aviators, but the rest of the dead were soldiers they hadn’t known before. That didn’t change either the sorrow of the survivors who had known the deceased, or the fact that most were too young to die, too fragile to have been thrown into battle, or just too _human_.

There were some dragons among the dead too. Lilith was one, and Dean found the bodies of Hester and Rachel as well. He had cursed and cursed, because damn it, they had survived months of imprisonment, and they should have happily returned to their normal lives, instead of dying like this.

Then of course, that was what was normal for a soldier, right?

Dean discovered the bodies of two more dragons he didn’t know the names of, a small Anthrax and a very old Striker, and also one big Frostling that he could swear was Alastair. Then of course, that might have been wishful thinking, but what could you do. When he was sure he’d found all the bodies, he made sure not to say it out loud, but he was rather disappointed about not finding Metatron’s body as well.

The most macabre part, of course, wasn’t picking up the bodies; it was picking up what was left that wasn’t attached anywhere anymore. Dean, having quite a strong stomach, was mainly in charge of that, with the help of Aaron, one of the newcomers that could still stand. Eventually Aaron threw up and collapsed after the sixth time carrying a small cart full of severed limbs to the arena to be burnt with the rest of the bodies. Of course, there were dragon parts around too; Dean found several bloodied scales lying around, a couple of claws, and a case of a full hind leg that seemed like it belonged to an Emeray, and which Dean prayed didn’t belong to Inias or Balthazar; he couldn’t be sure about the exact colour.

Cas and Gabriel did manage to turn Gabriel human – something that nobody but them witnessed – but they had to go back into their dragon forms to pull the dead dragons out of the village. They dug a shallow grave, and Gabriel covered it with lava, which soon grew cold as the rain had started again, slowly, quietly. Meg spent a long time over the grave, sobbing silently. Nobody tried to move her away.

That night, they lit a pyre to burn their fallen comrades. Around it stood eight sound newcomers and twenty-one injured ones, two aviators, two remaining dragons, and one scholar and ex-navy captain. Lighting it was dangerous, they knew, but it had come to the point where they didn’t care. They couldn’t bury everyone, so they burnt them. Nobody tried to stop them, anyway.

Dean kept staring at the flames as they licked the bodies and the ruins of the arena. Droplets of rain still fell, but Gabriel's breath was strong enough to keep the pyre going. Dean realised at some point that he was crying. He didn’t know if it was for Jessica, or for everyone else, or because he had stared at the fire for too long, or because he was breaking apart under the weight of everything that had happened. Castiel, still in his dragon form, gently touched Dean’s arm with his head, like a cat. Dean stroked him, finding comfort in touching him. He wished so much for Sam to have had a dragon himself next to him at this point. Dean only left the arena when he realised he hadn’t eaten all day and that the burning bodies smelt more like meat than death, and had to throw up in a corner. He didn’t talk to Sam when he felt his large hand holding his forehead up and rubbing his back, and Sam didn’t talk either. There wasn’t much to say.

The rain grew stronger, and Gabriel stopped trying to keep the fire alive; they had been keeping it ablaze only so they wouldn’t have to accept that it was over, anyway. Cas and Gabriel moved the ruins and rocks to create another tomb, and it wasn’t until midnight that they were finally finished and the humans around them felt that they could leave the scene and go to rest.

After a quick scavenge to the storage room, the thirty-two remaining people in the village moved inside the dome to eat and sleep and treat their wounds, and figure out what they were going to do now. Gabriel had curled up in front of the gate and the hole on the wall to keep the cold from coming in and bothering the others. The injured ones fell asleep fast, and the rest of the newcomers decided to keep watch to treat them if they needed something in the middle of the night.

Dean was chewing on a piece of salted pork, leaning his aching body against Castiel’s side; Cas had preferred to keep his dragon form, mostly because the soldiers, even if they had noticed that something was weird with the dragons in this regiment and it was apparently a normal thing for these specific aviators, weren’t really comfortable with him otherwise. Sam had kept a position similar to Dean’s but close to Gabriel, which Dean found a bit strange at first, but then, they were both mourning Jessica; maybe they had found comfort in each other’s presence and sorrow. Meg was treating the wounds of a soldier who’d lost three fingers.

Aaron approached Dean reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Captain?” he asked nervously.

Dean blinked in surprise. _Damn. I’m still a part of the army._ “Yeah?”

“I was wondering… what do you want us to do now?”

Silence fell after Aaron’s words. Dean looked around and realised everyone was looking at him; it took him a moment to remember that not only he was still in the military, he was the highest-ranking officer remaining in Boreas. The regiment was his responsibility now.

“Well,” he started uncertainly, “our purpose is to rescue our fellow soldiers, or at least find out what’s happened to them.”

“How are we going to do that, sir?” asked Aaron.

“First of all, there’s no _we_ here,” said Dean. “You guys are great, and you did an amazing job, but look how few of you are left. I can’t risk the rest of you dying.”

“But some of us can fight still,” protested a young woman. “We can help!”

“Then help by helping these poor bastards get to their homes safely,” Dean said. “They’ve already suffered enough. That’s what you need to do.”

“But sir –“ started Aaron.

“No _buts,_ ” commanded Dean. “We will very likely fight dragons when we get there, and none of you are qualified to do that. We will take care of it.”

“Yeah, because three people and two dragons are perfectly qualified to deal with the royal dragon army,” Meg mocked.

“We won’t have to deal with the _royal dragon army,_ ” said Gabriel before Dean had the time to answer. “If I manage to find Kali, we’re set. I know where the dragons of the Council live, they’re kept in the dome nearest to where the Council is at a time. If we talk to Kali, she’ll let us slip through.”

“Who’s Kali?” asked Dean, annoyed.

“I’ve talked to you about her,” Gabriel reminded him. “She’s the one I had an affair with. She still likes me. Sort of.”

“We can’t rely on just that,” Sam pointed out wearily. “You’re not sure she’ll be on our side.”

“Oh, she will be.” Gabriel reassured him. “I wouldn’t have liked her so much if she hadn’t been anti-government. She’d have killed a few and escaped years ago if it wasn’t for the fact that they would’ve found her. She’ll be glad to help.”

“Wasn’t she among the ones who actually imprisoned the rest of us?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, as if she had a choice. I’m gonna give her one,” said Gabriel.

“Okay,” said Dean. “In case this doesn’t work, do we have a Plan B?”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “I’m gonna burn everything on our way to find them. Are you satisfied?”

Maybe it was because he was tired, but Dean really _was_ satisfied.

“How did you meet Kali, anyway?” asked Meg, breaking the silence.

Gabriel grinned. “I told you, she’s very anti-government,” was the only thing he said.

“Gabe, you’ll have to turn, though,” Dean said. “We want to approach the city as quietly as possible. We need both of you to turn human then, alright?”

“We don’t turn human, you uneducated swine,” spat Gabriel, and Dean had spent enough time with him the past few hours to recognise a fake annoyed tone, “we turn _humanoid._ ”

“Okay then, just turn fucking _humanoid_ tomorrow, will you?” Dean insisted. Gabriel just rolled his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms.

“So, when are we leaving?” asked Meg.

“Tomorrow morning,” announced Dean. “As soon as the first one of us wakes up, they’ll wake the rest of us so we can go.”

“Wait, we’re not leaving right now?” asked Meg in disbelief. “I thought we had no time!”

“What use are we to them if we can’t even walk straight?” said Sam. “We need to rest first.”

“Let’s all just go to sleep now,” said Dean. “We’ll think about everything else tomorrow.”

Not all of them were satisfied, but they were too tired to argue. Dean was okay with that. He wasn’t ready for this much responsibility, and he certainly wasn’t a master planner. He rested his head on Castiel’s ribs and closed his eyes.

_Dean?_

Dean sighed. _Yeah, Cas?_

_Can I talk with you?_

_Shoot._

_No, I mean… can we go outside for a while? I want to talk._

_What, now?_

_If you’re too tired, it’s okay._

Dean had to try very hard to open his eyes, but he succeeded. _Yeah. Okay, let’s go._

Dean grabbed his coat and sauntered outside, trying not to bother the others; some of them were already asleep. He had to slap Gabriel's tail to to make him move it and stop blocking the entrance, but he passed through, followed slowly by Castiel. Eventually, Cas joined him outside; Dean put his hands inside his pockets to protect them from the piercing chill.

“What is it, Cas?” asked Dean.

Castiel didn’t answer at once. He put down a pair of pants that Dean hadn’t noticed him carrying before, and proceeded to change, much more smoothly than he used to. To Dean’s surprise, Cas remembered to cover himself with his wing until he had put on his pants.

“So, uh…” Dean started again, unable to take his eyes off Castiel. “What did you want to talk about?”

Castiel’s lips tightened in discomfort and he looked a little guilty. “Can we sit down?” he asked. Dean nodded and sat on some rocks beside the dome, just a few dozen feet from the entrance. Castiel sat on his right, and if his leg brushed against Dean’s and stayed there, Dean didn’t complain.

“I’m scared, Dean,” Castiel muttered, and Dean felt as if a knife was stabbing him.

“Why, Cas?” Dean asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” Castiel whispered. “We’re only counting on a prophecy for which we have no proof. I don’t want to be in the middle of this. So many have died, Dean.”

“It’s war, Cas. These things happen. We’re alive, that’s what matters.”

“I told Gabriel our story, you know,” Castiel said, as if his mind was following a trail that Dean couldn’t figure out. “I told him how you found me, and how I turned for the first time at your family’s celebration, and how we found out what I am. He said he had been suspecting it for a while,” Castiel laughed bitterly. “He’s really tried to cheer me up. He’s a great friend, you know, even though he doesn’t look like it. And he very easily took in all the angel magic I put into him. He’s a natural, maybe even more so than me.”

Dean nodded. “Is there a reason you’re suddenly babbling about Gabriel, Cas?” he asked, trying to smile.

“He’s so positive, that’s all,” Castiel answered. “I liked having some fun with him. I enjoy his company, because he lives in the present and makes the best out of it.” Castiel sighed. “And I’m so scared of what we’re going to face tomorrow.”

Dean put his right arm around Castiel’s bare, freezing shoulders, over his wings, before he realised what he was doing. “Hey,” he muttered, “I have faith in you, okay? You’re not alone. We’re here to help you. Screw the prophecies. We’re here because we wanna be here, and because we’re doing the right thing.”

“I can’t just… ‘screw’ the prophecy,” Castiel protested weakly. “What if I am indeed the one to bring peace? I can’t handle this.”

“Yes, you can,” said Dean and damn, he didn’t know what was going on with him, but he leaned closer, squeezed Castiel’s shoulder, put his left hand on Cas’ thigh, and placed his forehead against Cas’ temple. “I’ll be there the whole time, okay?” Dean whispered. “We’ll get in, we’ll let the others out, and then they will have to listen to us. I promise you buddy, we’ll win this, all right?”

Castiel didn’t speak, but Dean felt his wing move; before he knew it, he was wrapped in it, pushed just a little closer towards Cas. He breathed in nervously, and damn, it had been a while since he’d been so close to someone. Cas smelt of clear sweat and wet earth; there was nothing draconic or angelic in his fragrance, and Dean, for some reason, felt like he was suddenly addicted to it.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured and turned his face a little to the left, his lips half-open, his breath fast. Dean’s heart was pounding inside his chest; their mouths were only an inch apart.

 _No, no, no,_ Dean’s brain screamed, and his entire being focused on not letting Castiel into his mind, _this is wrong. You were supposed to get married to a good woman, this was just a phase, nothing more. He’s not even a man, for God’s sake. You’re not supposed to do this. He doesn’t even know what it means. For fuck’s sake, just pull away! You can do it. Just a small move, he won’t mind, he’ll understand, just an inch at a time_ …

And he moved his mouth an inch. The opposite direction to the one his brain was telling him.

He felt rather than heard Castiel’s gasp, and oh, Gods, his lips were suddenly pressed against Castiel’s, as if they had a will of their own. Dean closed his eyes, and felt the soft brush of eyelashes on his cheek as Castiel mimicked him. His mouth slipped a bit, as he and Cas weren’t exactly sitting in the most comfortable position for kissing, and he laughed awkwardly before managing to stop himself. He felt Castiel pull away.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Castiel. He looked confused; his face was flustered. He raised one hand to his lips and touched them slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Dean’s heart was threatening to jump off of his chest.

“Dean,” Cas muttered again, more hoarsely than usual. Dean smiled weakly.

“Cas,” he called softly, “are you okay?”

Castiel nodded, his hand still resting on the side of his mouth. “I did not – that was… unexpected,” he muttered.

“Did you mind?” Dean whispered, not even believing what he was doing.

Cas shook his head. “No, it was… rather enjoyable.”

Dean laughed softly. He took Castiel’s hand in his own and kissed his index finger. Castiel shuddered, and Dean kissed his middle finger, sucking a little, and felt a hint of happiness inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time when Cas gasped. “Enjoyable, huh?” commented Dean. “D’you wanna do it again?” he asked, and before he knew it, Cas’ mouth was pressing on his own, awkwardly, full of inexperience and fondness, and Dean felt his pants straining against his crotch. He cupped Castiel’s shoulder with one hand and turned him towards himself with the other, and suddenly Castiel’s hands were _everywhere_. Dean found himself opening his mouth, letting Castiel get a better taste of him; he felt a bite on his lower lip and exhaled shakily. His tunic and coat were gone in seconds, and a small part of Dean’s brain wondered why he wasn’t cold, but then he stopped caring. He felt Castiel’s hands on the small of his back; one of them slid up along his spine and cupped his neck, and he felt slender fingers pass through his hair and get a grip, and _damn_ , this wasn’t experience talking, it was all pure _Castiel_ and his instincts.

“Oh, God, _Cas_ –“ Dean breathed between the hungry kisses, and he felt Castiel’s leg climb on his thigh; dammit, the strain in his pants was out of control now. Dean’s hands stroked their way towards the base of Castiel’s wings, tracing the scaly patterns on his back, grabbing the feathers tight and pulling ever so slightly, just like Cas was doing with Dean’s hair. Castiel hissed in pleasure and leaned towards Dean even more, and damn, _dammit_ , he was heavy. Dean found himself slipping off the rocks they were sitting on, dragging Castiel with him, and huffed when he landed on his back, sandwiched between the ground and Cas. Castiel laughed, and fuck, that was a freaking beautiful sound. Dean found he didn’t mind having Cas on top of him at all.

As if he was reading his mind – which Dean had no idea if he did – Castiel looked worried for a second. “Are you alright like this?” he asked. “I’m not too heavy for you, am I?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, Cas, I’m okay like this,” he reassured him. Cas did weigh a little more than you’d expect for a man his size, but he wasn’t a man after all, and Dean was just happy that Castiel’s usual mass hadn’t stayed the same in this form.

Dean really tried to care about making out with a person who was hatched instead of born and who had no bellybutton, but then Castiel leaned forwards and kissed him again, biting softly and rubbing his abdomen, and Dean really couldn’t find a single fuck to give.

Dean pulled Cas closer, kissing him passionately, having absolutely no idea where all this had come from. He pushed his fingers through Cas’ messy hair and stroked his soft stubble, suddenly very aware of the bulge between Cas’ legs rubbing against his own crotch. He moaned helplessly as he reached for Castiel’s wings again, feeling the silky, strong feathers under his fingers.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so –“

Dean laughed. “You’ll get used to it,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Cas nodded, and Dean noticed the few droplets of sweat on his brow, despite the cold. “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” Castiel said apologetically and Dean laughed again.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll guide you, okay?”

Castiel nodded and slipped him another small kiss.

“Okay,” muttered Dean. “What do you wanna do? I’ll tell you how. Just do what you feel like, and I’ll guide you.”

“I want to –“ Castiel looked embarrassed, and Dean barely caught Cas’ glimpse at his own crotch.  He looked at Dean. “This body is so confusing, Dean, I don’t know how it works. This feels so strange.”

“Good strange, I hope,” said Dean. He tried not to focus on Castiel’s strong biceps as they held his weight above Dean, and took the laces of Castiel’s pants in his fingers. He looked at him, and Cas’ eyes were wide. Dean could tell he was losing control; his pupils were slit again. “Cas, should I take this off or are you gonna grow claws and gut me by accident?”

Castiel laughed awkwardly. “I can control this, Dean,” he reassured him.

“Should I take this off?” asked Dean uncertainly. He had no idea whether or not Cas was ready for something like that.

Cas smiled. “Yes.”

Dean untied the laces and pulled Castiel’s pants a little lower, breathing heavily, not exactly ready for the throbbing, leaking cock that popped from inside, but definitely excited for it. Dean caught a glimpse of Castiel biting his lip in pleasure, and smiled.

“Cas?” he whispered. “You wanna –“

Castiel nodded and tried to push Dean’s pants down, then remembered the laces and the belt. He shifted his weight from his torso to his thighs so that he could support himself. His nimble fingers moved quickly, excitedly, and Dean’s own cock was free very soon.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean murmured as he gently touched Cas’ dick, trying to get used to the feeling. He noticed the dark hair around it mixing with the scaly patterns on his hipbones, and damn it all, someone not human in any way wasn’t supposed to be this hot – no, not just hot; fucking _beautiful_.

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean again, hungrily, desperately, as if it was their last day on earth – which, Dean thought, it might as well be. Cas tasted Dean, bit gently, sucked on his lip, his one hand cupping the sides of Dean’s neck, his thumb on his cheeks, his other hand supporting his weight, as Dean’s left hand played with the strange mixture of feathers and scales at the base of Cas’ wings, and his right hand rubbed their cocks together. Dean panted, biting back, licking, slipping from Castiel’s mouth as his hand’s movement quickened, leaving a trail of kisses on Castiel’s jaw and neck as Cas moaned helplessly; Dean’s mouth found a perfect place on Castiel’s collarbone and settled there, sucking gently, kissing a spot with a couple of scales, the smooth, hard surface strange, unfamiliar in his mouth, but not unpleasant. He wondered if he could mark dragon scales with hickeys, and decided to test it out. Castiel moaned in pleasure and kept himself up with one hand, the other around Dean’s on their cocks; Dean’s hand moved quickly, already slick with precum, and only stopped for half a second when Cas let out a surprised gasp, only to continue when he realised Cas was almost there.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he murmured, “we’ve got this, come on.”

“Dean, I’m – going to –“

“Yeah, yeah you are,” Dean panted, and quickened his hand movement, until Castiel moaned loudly, and Dean felt his hand get really, really wet, and Cas had to press his face on Dean’s collarbone to muffle a scream that made him shake from tip to toe. Dean laughed, panting, kept going for a moment and then stiffened as he felt his own dick release between them, holding back his scream only because he had nothing to make it quieter, turning it into an uneven whimper. Castiel exhaled shakily and Dean felt his warm breath on his shoulder, and laughed. He pushed Castiel gently, rolling him off to the side, and turned to the right to see him, his eyes closed in bliss, that rare smile on his face. Dean wanted to just stay there and look at him forever.

“Hey, we need to wash up,” Dean said softly after a few moments.

Castiel looked at him. “The river?”

Dean considered it for a moment. The baths were gone, so the river was probably their only option. They got up, safe in the empty village, and got dressed again; Dean realised he still wasn’t cold. He took Cas by the hand and they walked to the river, taking their time, spending more than half an hour just walking and feeling each other’s hands, not even speaking. The sky had cleared after the rain, and the stars were out.

“That’s the dragon, isn’t it?” asked Cas at some point, pointing at a constellation, and Dean could only nod and laugh. He guessed he didn’t need that dragon anymore to be lucky, but yeah, that kind of luck wasn’t bad either.

They bathed in the river, and the darkness under them and the current pushing them away from their starting point had never troubled Dean less. Dean knew the water should have been freezing, but it somehow wasn’t; it was just the right temperature for him. He wondered whether he was finally getting some of his dragon perks, before he realised they’d decided that wasn’t possible, and in the end, he decided not to care.

They got out, dripping, naked, and made pillows out of their clothes on the grass patches along the riverbank. They lay there on their backs, Castiel a little turned to the side to rest his head against Dean’s collarbone, his left wing folded behind him, his right one making a cover for Dean to rest under. They looked at the stars like they had before, those nights in Elaurans, which now seemed a thousand years away.

They decided not to go back until morning. Dean put his right arm under his head and rested his left hand on his stomach for Cas to tangle his fingers with. He wondered when holding Castiel’s hand had become such a priority in his life, but he found he didn’t care. If that was the last thing he’d ever get to do before he fought for his life and for his freedom and for everything he’d ever believed in, well, he was gonna go happy.

He looked at Castiel, who had already started drifting, breathing softly against Dean’s skin. Exhausted, drowned in the aftermath, and completely in love, Dean thought that there was really a halo around Cas’ head.

Wait, _completely in love?_

Well. Who was he kidding, anyway?

He kissed the top of Cas’ head softly and fell asleep, with the stars above his head and the smell of sweet sweat and earth and feathers in his nostrils.


	17. Silverwing

Dean woke up by the light of dawn on his eyelids. The sun had just risen, and the rocks around the river, wet by the previous day’s rain and the morning dew, were glistening. Birds were chirping, and it took Dean a while to remember why he was sleeping in the forest, until he felt Cas shift against his side.

Feeling his heart race, Dean looked to his right. Yeah, Cas was still there, his face towards Dean and his hand atop Dean’s chest, relaxed, breathing slowly; his leg was tangled between Dean’s, and oh _Gods_ , what the hell had they done? The memory of the previous night hit Dean like a gunshot. He was suddenly very aware that he was lying naked in a grassy riverbank, inexplicably not even feeling cold in the middle of December, which was already freaking creepy. He was sleeping casually instead of preparing for battle, instead of doing everything to save his friends, and shit, what if the others had woken up already and realised that both him and Cas were missing? What if they’d figured out? What if –

Dean’s attention was caught by Cas’ grimace in his sleep. Cas stirred and opened his eyes, lazily looking around at first, and then focusing on Dean’s face.

“Good morning, Dean,” he said softly, and then frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, averting his eyes. “We’d, uh… we’d better go wake up the others.”

“Dean.”

Dean looked at Cas, who sat up and stared at him until he sighed. “Yeah, Cas, what is it?”

“Your thoughts woke me up,” Castiel said softly.

Dean looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Well, not exactly your thoughts. Your subconscious. Your… emotions, if you like,” Cas explained. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You regret what we did last night.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Dean said quickly. “No, _no_ , I don’t.  I’m just…” he sighed. “It’s just a little weird, you know?”

“Not really. I don’t have any similar experiences to compare it with.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I meant, it was great, okay? But doesn’t if bother you? We’re like different freaking _species_ , and we’re both guys, and… I don’t know. Doesn’t it feel strange to you?”

“No,” Castiel shrugged. “It felt right to me. It was like I found what was missing.”

Damn him, Castiel had this way of saying the most sappy, inhuman things in such a normal way and while keeping his goddamn pokerface, and Dean couldn’t stay frustrated for long. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“If you don’t want to do it again, I’ll understand,” said Castiel, and Dean looked at him. “But please let it be a good memory for me, all right? It was the best night of my life and I want to remember it that way. If you want to be bitter about it, don’t pull me into this.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he had no idea what to say. He watched as Cas got up and shook his wings to rid them of the dew, stretched and picked up his pants, putting them on, working on the laces delicately, as if he was enjoying playing with them. Dean just stared, trying to understand how and why had yesterday night happened. Yeah, sure, it _had_ been a while for him, and it wasn’t the first time he had a thing for a dude, but going _all the way_ with a dude, and that dude being _Cas_ , of all people? Lisa had been there, what they had was mutual, so why had he gone after the transforming angel-dragon hybrid with the two extra limbs in his human form and teeth the size of Dean’s arm during eighty percent of the time? It had all started when Dean had first seen Cas turning into the kind of hot scruffy warrior or something, right? It was just lust, nothing more. Cas didn’t deserve that. Dean was just too _little_ for him. Cas was the stuff of prophecies, majestic in his dragon form, meant to stop an entire war himself, and so amazingly beautiful in his second form that Dean had expected a freaking princess to fall for him and make his goddamn babies or something. Why on earth would he even look at Dean and see something more than his aviator? Why should Dean look at Cas and see something less than the wonderful creature he actually was, diminishing him into a simple _person_ , available for small talk and _fucking?_ That wasn’t who Cas was, and Dean shouldn’t confuse his lust for him with love, no matter how much it felt that way.

But then Cas looked at him and Dean felt the tightness in his chest, not his pants. He realised he wasn’t staring at Cas’ hipbones or strong muscles, he had spent the last few moments looking at Cas’ fingers making loops with his laces, playing with them, exploring them with the delicate fingertips he was so unfamiliar with. Dean wasn’t noticing Cas’ pale lips, he was mesmerised by the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, so human, so fucking beautiful. He didn’t remember touching Cas’ ass last night as much as he remembered the taste he left in his mouth and the scent of his breath. He realised he would have been attracted to him anyway, but if he had put anyone else inside that body he would never have touched him or kissed him the way he did or woken up next to him in the morning.

And damn, Cas didn’t know any better. If they weren’t careful, Cas would end up with Dean, and how could Dean ever live with himself for being so selfish?

He cleared his throat. “Look, Cas, I –“

“No.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “What ‘no’? You don’t know what I was gonna say.”

“No, but I know I won’t like it,” Castiel said simply. “You should get dressed, by the way.”

Dean huffed, but he got up and started dressing. “We do need to talk about a few things, though,” he pointed out as he buckled up his pants.

“No, we don’t,” said Castiel simply. “I know you, and I know you’re probably regretting last night for some stupid reason. I won’t let you take that away from me, though.”

“I’m not regretting anything,” Dean protested, putting on his tunic and still wondering why the hell he wasn’t cold. “It was really, _really_ fucking great. But –“

“Well, it was great for me too, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Cas, you don’t get it,” said Dean, putting on his boots and starting to lace them up. “I want you to be happy, okay? And I don’t think this is the best way for you to actually be happy, you know?”

“And I suppose you know what’s best for me?” Castiel’s voice was calm, which scared Dean more than if Cas had yelled at him.

“Well,” Dean tried, “you’re young. You might think you want something, but –“

“Dean, I’m going to stop you now”, Castiel interrupted, sighing. “I am going to ignore everything you have to say on the subject. I don’t regret what we did, and I was happy yesterday. I woke up still feeling happy about it. I know you’ve had many experiences before me and that I wasn’t the best partner you ever had, but it was something important for me. This might be my last day on earth. Could you please pretend it was fine for you too so that I can at least go happy?”

Dean was so taken aback that for a moment he couldn’t form words. “Uh – Cas, I told you, I –“ he stopped and cleared his throat. “I had an awesome time yesterday, alright? I just don’t think that I’m – that I’m good for you, okay? I don’t want you to feel obliged to me because we had some _fun_.”

“You talk as if your purpose in life is to find me the perfect person to be with, Dean.”

“Well, it’s not my purpose in life, but –“

“I’ll be the one to decide if someone’s good for me or not. If I had slept with anyone else, you would tell me it was my life and I made the decisions for it. Why is my judgement clouded only when it comes to you?”

Dean hesitated. “Cas, are you reading my thoughts?”

“I don’t have to,” Cas said. “But yes.”

Dean snorted. Damn it. He hadn’t even realised. “You’re not allowed to do that, you know.”

“You were the one who didn’t push me out,” Castiel pointed out. “If the only reason for regretting this is your own self-pity and doubts about yourself, then it’s a ridiculous reason. I chose _you_ when I crawled out of my shell, I chose _you_ when I was facing the officers that demanded to take me away from you, and I’m choosing _you_ to share my body with. If the reason for regretting sleeping with me is any other than your false belief that you’re not good enough, I will accept it, even if I don’t want to, and I will welcome anyone else who comes into your life in my place. But don’t you dare think you’re lesser than me.”

Dean swallowed the knot inside his throat. “You’d told me once that you’d end me if I thought myself better than you,” he muttered.

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want you above me or under me, Dean. I want you by my side, as equals. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

Dean paused. He hesitated, and then laughed softly. “Well, I kind of liked having you above me, to be honest,” he said.

Castiel rolled his eyes angrily. “I told you, I don’t need this,” he insisted, and Dean laughed; he should have expected Cas completely missing the innuendo. “Stop laughing at me. If we can’t be equals –“

“Can I kiss my way into apology and forgiveness?” Dean interrupted.

“Yes.”

“And grope my way too?”

“Also yes.”

“Okay.” Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas fully, cupping his face with his hands, as Cas’ arms loosely hugged Dean’s lower back. Dean pulled away after what seemed to him like a lifetime. “Thanks,” he muttered, averting his eyes. “I sometimes don’t think much of myself.”

“I know,” said Castiel. “That’s what I’m here for,” He caught Dean’s hand and pulled him towards the village. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

Dean just followed, wondering if he was even allowed to feel this fucking happy within this mess.

* * *

 

Dean, ever since he learnt that Gabriel had managed to follow Cas’ footsteps and change into a humanoid form, had wondered what the great Royal might look like. Since Cas, who did have angel blood, yes, but who was young and not extremely impressive in his dragon form, compared to others, looked that good in his smaller form, and since even Lilith, who was creepy as hell and completely inexperienced, had turned into a stunning woman, Dean expected Gabriel to be pretty much the stuff of legends. He hadn’t found the time to gossip about it with Sam, but a massive, pretty much ancient Royal such as Gabriel ought to be at least a seven feet tall muscle man with golden eyes and great wings and a horned tail that could bathe in boiling oil and enjoy the experience.

Well, as Dean and Cas approached the dome and found the others ready for them, Dean discovered that he’d gotten the parts about the golden eyes and massive wings right, even though the rest of Gabriel was a complete disappointment. How did a freaking twenty-five feet tall and fifty long monster turned into a five foot eight slim man with a pair of wings three times his size, tidy brown hair and a constant smirk. Well, Dean could understand the smirk; he just couldn’t understand anything else.

“Didn’t your momma ever teach you not to stare, Dean-o?” was the only thing Gabriel said on the subject, as he grudgingly accepted a cloak from Sam to hide his wings under. He had managed to find several pieces of clothing and armour that covered him, and even if it looked like patchwork, it could protect him. Dean decided to ignore the fact that Gabriel had apparently felt the need to add a few medals on his leather vest and a bright fuchsia, slightly burnt bandana on his neck, which Gods knew where the hell he’d found. He was also wearing a pair of goggles on his head, which made no sense at all, since well, if there was a need for him to fly, Dean doubted he would need the goggles. Gabriel’s cloak bulged uncomfortably over his wings, but well, Dean didn’t really think anyone would stop him and ask him what he was hiding under there.

Dean looked around. Aaron had promised to stay and keep an eye on the injured soldiers. Two of the still able ones had left for Auster in the middle of the night to find food and healing supplies, and had passed by one of the servant villages around the city to find a couple of good horses. Sam was still on his strange gear made of spare aviator armour parts and his old naval uniform; Cas remembered to wear the rest of the clothes he was wearing last night in the eleventh hour; Gabriel was wearing the outrageous combination of random things that seemed less and less improbable to Dean as time passed, damn his ability to get used to things easily. Meg showed up in a really bad mood, wearing her old red Elavorni armour, and having branded herself with the symbol of Elavorn on her upper arm, probably using a burning knife or something equally terrifying that Dean didn’t want to know about. When asked, she said it was for Lilith, with a tone that didn’t really left any room for arguing. She wore a huge, dirty old gown above her armour to not draw any unwanted attention, and covered her arm with great reluctance.

So, there they were. The heroes. Dean almost laughed.

“So, what’s the exact plan?” he asked. “Do we have any ideas?”

“Leave everything to me,” Sam answered, and Dean had no reason to argue.

They took some salted meat with them, as well as a leather bag containing the two bottles of Castiel’s blood and some weapons – a couple of swords, a couple of guns, a knife that Meg hid in her boot, and of course the little multi-functional weapon Dean had found and had decided to keep until it melted in his hand. They hid everything inside a charred cart, the only one of the five the regiment originally had, they made a tent for it out of canvas, and fastened the two horses on it. Inside the cart they also placed Castiel and Gabriel’s harnesses, and Dean, Cas, Meg and Gabriel sat beside them. Sam sat on the front, since he was both able to drive the cart and was known around only as a scholar. They left for the city with Aaron shouting at them for good luck, everyone praying under their breaths to succeed.

None of them spoke much during the trip to the city. Dean felt like he had forgotten how to moisten his mouth, and food didn’t help much. The only one who didn’t look worried was Gabriel; he had found some sweet bread in the surviving sacks in the storage room and had decided that the only thing that he’d lost in life, after spending a few hundred years as a dragon, was sugar. Dean and Meg had smiled at that, but they were far too worried to make a comment. When Cas cupped Dean’s hand with his own, nobody commented on it.

It took them about half an hour to reach the northern gate of the Capital. Dean had never been on this side of the city, and he could see little through the canvas. He did feel it when the cart stopped, though, and he heard the guards’ voices, even though he couldn’t make much of their faces; he could only tell there were a man and a woman.

“Halt! Who are you?”

“Oh, thank the Gods, someone’s still here!” Dean heard Sam exclaim. “I was so worried everyone would have left for the war and that the Capital would be deserted!”

Dean felt more than saw the confusion on the man’s face. “What are you talking about, you crazy man? The war has stopped!”

“What? No, it hasn’t!” said Sam, convincing even Dean that he was surprised. “The Elavorni attacked yesterday! They took away our aviators and our dragons! Most of us were destroyed! I was left for dead in the ruins of Boreas, and it took me a whole day to burn the bodies and escape that graveyard! Have we won? Has the Council decided to attack Elavorn yet?”

The uncomfortable silence that followed confirmed what Dean was afraid of; it was only the aviators that didn’t know what was up: the rest of the Capital’s army knew everything and weren’t allowed to talk. “Look, mister,” said the woman, “do you have business here or not?”

“Of course I do! I am a survivor of the battle!” Sam said, sounding scandalised. “My brother was there! My books, my notes, everything was there! I want to talk to the Council for some compensation at least! What am I supposed to do now?”

“What are you saying, you foolish man? Who the hell do you think you are to ask for such things?”

“My name is Samuel Winchester of Senvar,” Sam said proudly, his voice just as hurt as was necessary. “I am a scholar for the Order of the Aviators and the Auster Regiment, and former Captain of the HMS Impala of Elaurans. I demand you let me through!”

“Winchester?” the woman asked, sounding intimidated for the first time. “Of the Winchesters of Elaurans? The successors of Lord Campbell?”

“Lord Samuel Campbell is my noble grandfather,” Sam announced, and Dean knew he was as surprised as himself. They had never expected Sam to have to play that card, because their grandpa was just a local Lord; how did those guys even know him?

Whatever it was, it had worked. “Our apologies, sir. We will lead you to Lord Campbell immediately,” said the man, and Dean missed a breath. What _was_ that? Were they going to get Sam back to Elaurans, or was their grandfather here? Dean looked at Cas, who shrugged, confused.

“Wait a second,” said the woman, “we have to ask for something first. What is in your cart, Sir Winchester?”

“What business is that of yours?”

Dean saw Gabriel slap his own face in despair. “He’s gonna lose it,” Gabriel murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me they needed to see the inside of the cart?” he asked Dean, as the guard said: “It is a typical procedure, Sir. I’m sure you have nothing to hide, but we have to be sure. We’re only doing our jobs.”

“Crap,” whispered Dean, “they can’t see me and Meg, we’ll be wanted by now. And you two are practically screaming ‘alien’ to their faces. We’re screwed.”

“But I am _Samuel Winchester_ ,” Sam was saying. “I am an attack survivor and you won’t even respect my condition?”

Gabriel groaned as the woman insisted. “Leave that to me,” he said. “Whatever I say, just play along, and don’t you dare interrupt.” Before any of them managed to stop him, he stepped over them and opened the canvas just enough for him to be visible.

“My dearest, what’s taking so long?” he asked, and Dean’s eyes widened so much he felt like they would pop out of his head. He wished Sam was handling it better than he was, and silently wished for Meg to stop chewing nervously on the crew-neck of her dress.

Dean heard the surprised voices of the guards. “Who on Earth are you!?”

Gabriel ignored them. “Sam, honey-bee, what do these peasants want? Haven’t you told them we need to talk to the Council? Why are they stopping us?”

“Uh –“

“Who is this, Sir Winchester?” asked the woman, on the verge of panic.

“I am Chevalier Gabriel the Vulture, Prince and Knight of Tissantel. Why aren’t you lowering your eyes when you address me?”

“Are you – are you an _elf_ , sir?” asked the man, sounding extremely confused. Dean looked at Castiel, almost terrified. This was either going to send them straight to the palace, or straight to an underground, rat-infested cell.

“Of course I am, you pathetic human,” spat Gabriel. “What do I look like, a dragon?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“My apologies, Sir Knight, but I am unfamiliar with your kind,” blurted the man. “What is your business with Sir Winchester and the Council?”

“I am accompanying my betrothed,” Gabriel announced in the most pompous way possible and Dean almost choked on his own spit. “The destruction of the village damaged the roots of our forest. I came by and what did I see? My love, my sun, my everything, trapped under tons of debris, his pretty face bruised, his dowry gone, his brother hurt! I am going to be spending the long years of my life along with an honourable member of society, or there is going to be war among Tissantel and the Capital! We’ve had enough of you!”

“But – but – how can you be betrothed to this… man?” asked the woman, and Dean had never needed so much to bleach his ears in sulphuric acid to stop them from listening. Castiel had gone bright red, and Meg had hidden her face in her hands.

“Just because you _humans_ are close-minded doesn’t mean my race is,” spat Gabriel, and Dean was pretty sure that wasn’t an act at all. “I have brought witnesses, you know,” he said and Dean’s eyes shot up. “If you don’t let us in, you will have war not only with Elavorn, but Tissantel too, before you even manage to call for your mothers to save your sorry bottoms.”

The confused excuses and apologies continued even after Gabriel had stepped back into the cart and it had started moving again, under the supervision of the woman. Dean, Castiel and Meg all stared at Gabriel, who just shrugged.

“Your _‘sorry bottoms’_?” Meg commented.

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel answered before reaching for another piece of sweet bread.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice low. “What the hell was that all about, huh? You’re gonna get us all killed!”

“Na-ah,” said Gabriel, “quite the contrary. Me and Sam are going to bullshit our way through the Council, while you three go to find the others.”

“But you said Kali would be the one to help us find the others!” hissed Meg.

“Give me some credit, kids,” said Gabriel, so relaxed that Dean wanted to punch him. “I’ve picked up a few of Cassie’s tricks, don’t worry.”

“Like what?” asked Dean.

Gabriel eyed him. “Just because you boys have tried to use that mutual mind-reading only on each other doesn’t mean it doesn’t work on others, too,” he said. “I’m surprised you two dumbasses haven’t tried it before.” _See?_

Dean jumped at the sound of Gabriel’s voice inside his head. “Holy shit!” he hissed, and he realised Cas was rubbing his temples, and Meg was staring at Gabriel with a horrified expression.

“Wait, this isn’t a… Dean and Cas thing?” Dean asked Castiel, who shrugged.

“What the hell was that?” asked Meg.

“Try to think something back to me,” Gabriel said. Dean obliged happily. “Okay, so Dean thinks I’m a dick, and Cassie-boy hates my guts for doing this, and I can’t hear Meg’s thoughts. It’s probably a blood thing. I’m so happy to have you around, Cassie.”

“So my blood works as a channel of communication between us?” Castiel asked, frowning in disbelief.

“Seems so,” Gabriel said.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“It sure is, but I’m not complaining,” Gabriel said. “That means that I’ll be able to let you know what’s happening inside there while you’re saving the others.”

“How are we going to find them, though?” Dean asked. “The plan was to sneak inside and find Kali, not parade in front of the Council.”

“I’ll contact Kali and let her know what’s happening,” Gabriel said, tapping his temple. “They keep the Council dragons tied up inside their domes, so it won’t be difficult to find her. She’ll most probably help out.”

“How will she sneak around with us?” asked Meg. “Or are you proposing we turn her, too?”

“Bingo,” said Gabriel. “Only if you need it, though. We’ll keep the Council busy, and then you can come and crash the party.”

Dean didn’t have the time to argue, because the cart stopped. They heard the woman’s voice asking Sam to follow her; Gabriel winked at them and got out.

“What a wonderful building,” Dean heard Gabriel say. “Is this the central management?”

As the woman answered, Dean heard Gabriel’s voice inside his head. _This isn’t the main building. If the Council is here, then their dragons aren’t. There is no dome. You need to go to the centre of the city, by the palace. The domes are there. As soon as they lead us inside, you guys leave and walk away as casually as possible._

 _I know how to sneak around, you cocky bastard,_ thought Dean, and cursed his luck for having to walk around the city. He raised his palm towards Cas and Meg to prevent them from talking and harked for any sounds that could mean movement. When the only thing he heard was silence, he dared to peek from behind the canvas. There was no-one around. Dean quickly got off the cart and checked the space around him. They were in something that looked like a stable, and there really was nobody around.

“Come on,” Dean whispered and held the canvas aside for Cas and Meg to come out. “Take the weapons. If you see a guard, hit them straight in the face and they’ll probably go down.”

“That’s reassuring,” Meg muttered.

“We’re not gonna kill anyone we don’t have to.”

“That’s not practical.”

“My country, my rules. Shut up.”

Meg obeyed, and put her knives in small pockets on her pants, perfectly hidden under her gown. She tied her cloak around her, hiding her face under her hood. Dean placed his own cloak in a way that hid his sword and thigh holster with his gun. He fixed Castiel’s cloak to hide his wings properly, and told him to hold it so that it didn’t flap behind him as he walked; for extra security, Dean took the small leather bag which contained the two bottles of blood and fastened it on Castiel’s back, over his cloak, making sure the straps were tight around his torso. As Dean was making sure the buckle on Cas’ neck was holding, he pushed the cloak aside a little and saw the mark he had left yesterday on Cas’ neck; the scales weren’t red, of course, but the skin around them was, making them stand out even more. Dean smiled and passed a finger over the strange hickey, and covered it again.

Meg rolled her eyes. “You two are sickening,” she commented. “Could you please hurry?” Dean nodded, but he was sure that he heard her murmur something with the words “gay as the sun is bright” and “screw my luck” inside it, but of course, that could be just him.

Dean stepped out of the stable into a sunlit street. The buildings were low, and the houses had gardens in front of them. The street was wide and tiled, and only a few people were walking around; no carts, no horses, no bicycles. Dean looked at the big building the stable was a part of; it had three stories and looked a bit like the Headquarters. The guards in the front gate were busy talking to the woman from the Northern Gate, Sam, and Gabriel.

“Go, go, go,” Dean commanded and the three of them went outside. A couple of people looked at them absentmindedly, but none looked twice. They walked by the side of the road, hoping they were moving southwards. That was it, Dean thought; being full-out in the morning was far better than sneaking around. Hopefully, anyway.

They had to ask a passing woman with two small children to show them the way to the angel temple; they didn’t want to ask for the palace, but it was right next to the temple, so it could serve just as well. The woman showed them, they thanked her and kept going. They moved fast, not running, just in a high walking speed; they didn’t want to take a carriage to the palace, just in case somebody took notice.

They were passing through a market full of loud people, when Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked at him.

“It’s Gabriel,” Cas muttered, as he kept walking. “They’re keeping them waiting.”

“Why doesn’t the jerk share the info with us too?” Meg asked, acting casually and pretending to be interested in a pumpkin.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered. “He says the Council is going to take a while, and that they are going to wait maybe a few hours before they’re allowed to talk to them.”

“This is perfect,” Dean said. “Ask him about Kali.”

Castiel paused and frowned, trying to concentrate. “It’s hard,” he muttered. “The distance between us is growing with every step I take, and Gabriel hasn’t done this before. Do excuse me…”

After a few moments, Castiel spoke again: “He says he can feel her presence somewhere in the city, but he’s not sure. He tried to find the others, though, and everyone feels close to Kali. He says he thinks he’s getting Balthazar and Lucifer clearer than anyone else.”

“How the hell is he doing this?” Dean muttered. “Can you do that? Can you focus on one mind within the city?”

“No,” Castiel answered, “I tried when we were still in the stable. I don’t think I can do it. Gabriel seems to be far stronger and powerful than we had thought at first.”

“Let’s get practical, hot shot,” Meg said. “Do we have to go at the dome by the palace or not?”

“Yes,” said Castiel confidently. “But we’d better hurry.”

It took another hour of walking for them to get to the Centre and face the palace and, behind it, the angel temple. Sure enough, the domes were there; they were just from the wrong side of the wall encircling the palace, surrounded by guards.

The building stood in front of them, menacing, full of power. Dean hated it with every fibre of his existence.

“We need to get in,” he said. “How the _fuck_ are we supposed to get in?”

“Okay, this is where I’m useful, I guess,” said Meg. “Dean, punch me.”

“Say what now?”

“I’m Elavorni scum, right? I need to be captured. Just punch me. Not very hard, if you like, my jaw is still killing me from yesterday.”

“You want us to _turn you in?”_

“I want _you_ to turn me in while pretty boy over there finds the dome. I’ll make sure to make a mess to draw the guards’ attention,” Meg said.

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. “I don’t like this,” Cas said.

“Well, I can’t say I’m complaining,” shrugged Dean.

“Don’t you dare leave me in there after you’re done,” Meg warned. “I’m helping here. All I want after this is to become a hermit and mourn my dragon’s death. I don’t want to do that in a dungeon under the goddamn Capital.”

“You have my word,” Castiel said. “Thank you.”

Meg smiled, and it didn’t look fake. “No, thank _you_ , pretty boy. Go fulfil that prophecy of yours now.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Castiel waited behind the wall, leaning against it casually, harking for any sound that would reveal what was happening inside the palace’s garden. This part of the wall was just a tiny alley. The next building was a storehouse for the palace’s kitchen, as it seemed. Castiel waited until he heard Dean’s voice, saying he had a prisoner from Elavorn who was in need of questioning. A few moments later, Castiel heard the clanging noises and the shouting, and he took off his cloak and tried to fly for the first time in this form. If he couldn’t manage, it wasn’t important; he could always climb up. To his surprise, he felt himself leaving the ground, and soon his head was over the wall. He put his weight on his arms against the top of the wall and looked inside.

Meg was slashing the guards with extreme easiness. It was the first time Castiel was seeing her in battle, and he marvelled at her agility and speed. Dean was acting panicked, getting in the way of the guards more than he was helping, and Castiel smiled. So far, so good, but they would need backup.

Castiel made sure there was nobody around that could see him – Meg was taking care of that excellently – and he jumped down, finding balance in his wingspan. He folded his wings again and ran to the dome, taking off most of his clothing simultaneously. He completely ignored the calligraphy sign that asked for people to not step on the grass, and just ran for it.

He entered the dome under the astonished stares of twelve very adult, very ancient dragons. Castiel would have held his breath even if he wasn’t six feet tall. He dropped the pile of clothes he was holding on his hands, leaving himself wearing only his trousers, like this morning.

He found his voice soon, though. “Which one of you is Kali?” he asked, with as much confidence as he could find.

An elegant Striker came forward as much as the chains on her hind legs could allow her. The insides of her wings were dark red, as were some spots on her shoulders and tail. Her eyes were also red and glistening. She was smaller than the others, but she had an air of power around her. “I am Kali,” she said. “So it’s true.” She eyed Castiel carefully, and for the first time in his life, Castiel felt naked.

The others murmured, looking at each other. They didn’t seem to know what was happening, and Castiel couldn’t blame them.

One large Frostling spoke, stepping forward. “What is this strange creature, sister?” she asked. “How dare it come into our place of rest?”

“Give him a chance, Esper,” commanded Kali. “Let him speak.” She turned back to Castiel. “Was it really Gabriel that spoke to me, or was it you? He never had the ability to speak into minds, and he wouldn’t answer when I called at him. Is this your kind of magic?”

“It is my kind of magic,” Castiel admitted, “but it was Gabriel calling to you. Gabriel has some of my blood inside him. It has given him powers beyond even my understanding.”

“An angel’s blood,” Kali said, impressed. “The most powerful ingredient in the universe.”

“This child is no angel,” said another, whiter Frostling from the other side of the dome. “What has gotten into you, Kali? He has no right to be here. Just kill him and be done with it. He annoys me.”

“Silence, Samhain,” Kali ordered again, and Castiel knew then that she was really powerful; their leader, maybe. “This young man here is much more than he seems. Are you so blind that you can’t see what’s in front of your eyes? The prophecies are fulfilled with his arrival.”

“What prophecies?” asked a calm, female Lochart. “The angelic ones? What do we care about them?”

“You _know_ about the prophecies?” Castiel asked. “I thought it was only Lucifer who paid attention to them.”

“On the contrary,” Kali said, “the Council has been long bothered with the prophecies of the Temple. And you, apparently, are the one to make them come true.” She stared at Castiel for a moment. “I would like to see, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” exclaimed an Angel from behind Kali, “are we really talking about these things? Since when are you religious, Kali?”

“I want proof,” Kali said, without looking at the Angel, “otherwise I’m not following. Don’t tell me that you don’t want to break your chains, Virgil.”

“We can’t break our chains, Kali,” said a great Emeray. “It is either the chains, or going to war. I prefer peace and quiet, and so should you.”

“You’re not going to tell me what to do, Viggo. I want to hear this creature out. If he’s not worth our time, I will apologise,” said Kali and she looked at Castiel encouragingly. “Gabriel trusts him, and that’s enough for me.”

“Gabriel’s a traitor, Kali. When will you learn that his word is worth less than the dirt beneath your feet?”

“This child is not worth your attention,” someone murmured, and Castiel took a deep breath. “Look at it. It’s a freak. Who knows what kind of experiments they’ve done to him to make him grow wings.”

“Prophecies my ass.”

“There is no prophecy, everyone knows that.”

“Even if there was, _that_ wouldn’t have been a part of it.”

“Why are we still talking about it? Give him to the Council.”

“Too much trouble. Devour him.”

Okay, that was it. Castiel was tired. Dean and Meg were fighting outside to give him time, and his friends were waiting somewhere in a dungeon. He didn’t have time to waste on grumpy old dragons who had lost the will to live.

Sliding out of his remaining clothes, Castiel let his body stretch and transform and reach its limits, turning back into his dragon form. He spread his wings and beat them once, then twice, whipped his tail behind him and roared. He was satisfied as a few of the dragons took a step back; he let his mind go blank and spoke before he had the time to feel nervous about it.

“I am Castiel Silverwing of Elaurans,” he bellowed, “honorary Captain of the Auster regiment. I have the blood of the angels; I am the Seglaag of the prophecy. I have come to save my kind and the people who were kind to me, and correct the injustice that the Council has forced unto us, Agorreshians and Elavorni alike.” He took a breath; silence had fallen all around him. “I have come here to ask for your help,” he continued calmly. “Both my own regiment and the people from Elavorn were captured yesterday in the battle of Boreas. I know that you were the ones to take them. I can’t believe that there are dragons who would willingly harm their own kind. Something’s keeping you here, and I can understand how fearsome the Council can be. But times have changed. We have learnt since the battle, my aviator and I, that the governments don’t want the war to stop. We need to free our friends and make the battles stop once and for all. They’re using us all. they’re keeping you imprisoned against your will, and now us too. Please, I beg of you.” He turned to Kali. “Gabriel said that you would help us,” he said pointedly.

Kali licked her lips with her red, forked tongue. “What will happen if I don’t?” she asked.

“Then finding my friends will take longer,” Castiel answered. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me search aimlessly in the city for hours.”

Kali smiled, and then looked at the others. “Well, I don’t know if this guy is the Seglaag or not, but he definitely convinces me,” she said. “Anyone who wants to stop me from helping him should speak now.” Nobody spoke, and Kali’s smile turned into a grin before she looked at Castiel again. “All right, Castiel Silverwing,” she said. “I accept your title and your authority as the spark to start the revolution. I will help you. But I’m doing this to get rid of my chains; I don’t want His Majesty’s ass on my shoulders ever again.”

“You really are the King’s dragon,” Castiel commented, surprised, as he approached her, shrinking back into his smaller form, reaching for her chains and examining them.

“Yes, I have the privilege to be saddled by King Roman,” Kali said sarcastically.

Castiel’s fingers went all over the chains, trying to find an opening. He looked at Kali. “Aren’t you bonded with the King?” he asked.

“None of us is bonded with their rider,” Kali answered. “We were taken as prizes and bred to be servants, not companions.” She slapped Castiel’s hand lightly and he pulled it back from her bounds. “Don’t bother with the chains now, they cannot be broken. I just want you to fight your way in, free your friends and come and free me afterwards. These outrageous reptiles as well. I’ll tell you what to do and where to go. But you have to swear on everything you hold sacred to come and get us out.”

Castiel looked at the chains closely, ignoring her. “They’re tight, aren’t they?” he asked, and Kali nodded. “Have you tried slipping out of them?”

Kali laughed bitterly. “This isn’t the time for jokes. The chains are made of dragon steel. We’ve bled thousands of times trying to get out of them. You need to go. The prisoners are in the dungeons under the palace. The corridors have enough space for the biggest dragon in the world to pass through, but each cell has room for little more than half a dragon, and each one of them is kept separately. You need to go while in your tiny form, because –“

“You are going to lead me,” said Castiel. He looked into her eyes as she frowned at him. “I won’t swear that I will come later for you. I want to prove to you that I don’t want to use you; I really want to help you as you agreed to help me,” he said, and fished out a bottle from the leather bag lying atop his clothes. “You will have to drink a few drops of this,” he explained. “It is my blood. It will not harm you. Trust me.”

“He is crazy,” murmured a large Royal. “Drink his blood? Kali, don’t –“

“Oh, you bet your ass I will,” said Kali, and she brought the bottle to her lips, holding it carefully, and let a few drops fall inside her mouth. She made a grimace, and gave the bottle back to Castiel as quickly as she could without dropping it. “I don’t feel any different,” she said.

“Give it a few minutes”, said Castiel, putting his clothes back on. “I’m going to see what’s happening outside.”

Just as Castiel approached the entrance of the dome, a guard appeared in the opening. Castiel froze as the guard looked inside, his eyes widening at the sight of the strange winged man in the middle of the most forbidden and dangerous part of the palace.

The guard opened his mouth to say something, or call for help, possibly, but Castiel was next to him with a beat of his wings. Impulsively, Castiel clenched his fist and aimed for the man’s nose. He caught him in the temple as the man slightly turned his head, but the effect was immediate; the guard stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall down; the nerves in Castiel’s hand shot the blunt pain right up to his elbow. Castiel cursed under his breath. Dean had said that would work. He took a couple of quick steps towards the guard, who was trying to get a grip at his sword’s handle, and he hit the man on the side of his neck once to cut his breath and bring him down, and hit hard at the back of his head. The man flattened right at the entrance of the dome, and Castiel looked up.

He could see the rest of the garden from here. There were several guards fallen down around it, and Dean and Meg were running towards him. Meg had gotten rid of her gown and was just in her armour. Both of them were wounded, Castiel noticed, but he didn’t think it was serious; they were running with easiness, after all.

“Hey, Cas, good job with this one,” Dean panted when he finally reached him, and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, steadying himself. Meg arrived just a second later.

“I really hope we manage this,” she said, out of breath, “otherwise I’ll definitely be hanged.”

“Are you two okay?” Castiel asked, his eyes lingering on Dean a little more than Meg.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Dean said. “The guards are down, but they’re not dead, not all of them. Luckily they didn’t ask for backup. I don’t think they expected to have their asses kicked by two people. We’ll need to tie them up before anyone looks out the window and sees the bodies.”

“We’ll take care of that,” said Kali, and Castiel turned around. “I suppose these are your allies, Castiel Silverwing.”

“Yes,” said Castiel, ignoring Dean, who whispered _“Silverwing?”_ half-fondly, half-teasingly, as Meg snickered. “This is Captain Dean Winchester, my aviator, and this is Second Lieutenant Meg Masters.”

“She’s Elavorni,” spat a female Firebreather. “Come on, Kali. Are we going to trust people from Elavorn too, now?”

“She is following Castiel,” Kali pointed out. “You can stay here if you want, Veritas. I won’t ask you to join us. But stop protesting, for Heaven’s sake. Don’t forget that you’ll get rid of your own chains if we manage.” She looked at Castiel. “Tell me what to do.”

Castiel opened his mouth, but he felt a pull in his brain. He focused and heard Gabriel’s voice inside his head.

_Cas? Can you hear me?_

_Yes, Gabriel, I can hear you. What’s happening?_

_We took care of the guards. We’re working silently, so the Council hasn’t noticed. We’re outside the Council conference hall._

_What do you mean, you took care of the guards? Are they dead?_

_Dead or tied up with their own belts and curtains and gagged. Cas, that’s not the point. We’ve secured the doors of the hall so they can’t open from the inside, and Samsquatch here is keeping the corridor we came from by himself quite easily, and I’m very much trying to hear what the hell they’re talking about in there._

_What are they saying?_

_They’re talking about us. Us, as in the dragons and the aviators. Not just Auster, by the way. Elavorn, too. They want to send search parties to Boreas to make sure none is left alive, and that’s not the worst part._

_Wait. The Council wants to make sure_ none from its own army _is alive? So it’s true! They_ are _working against us._

_Kiddo, you have no idea._

_Did you hear anything about the others? Are they alive?_

_Yeah, they are. They’re talking about whether they’re going to execute them or not._

_What about Dean and Sam’s grandfather? Is he there?_

_Yeah, as far as I’ve heard. He’s not a member of the Council, though. They’ve just summoned the Lords of all the regions to join the Council. And you wanna know the best part? The Queen of Elavorn is in there too._

_What!?_

_You heard me. Queen Eve in all her majesty. There is no war between us and Elavorn, Cassie. She’s not there to compromise or anything, they’re talking to her normally. She’s an ally, Cas, she always has been._

_How was she always an ally? The war –_

_The war is a setup. All they’re worried about is how the dragons are not under their control anymore. Cassie, the war exists only so that the dragons are kept quiet! That’s why worshipping dragons is not allowed anymore, don’t you see? They’re afraid of us and want to keep us with our heads down._

_Are you a hundred percent sure of this?_

_As I’m sure that if I don’t find something sweet to chew on soon I’m going to drive my fist through a wall. It’s us against the governments, Cassie. We need to do something or we’re screwed._

_No, no we’re not screwed_ , said Castiel stubbornly. _I’ve talked to Kali. She’s going to lead us to the others._

_Atta girl. Tell her I miss her._

_Tell her yourself, I’ve shared my blood with her._

_Okay, great. Now get moving and let the others out. I wanna be home for dinner._

Castiel came violently back to reality under Dean’s stare.

“Cas? What is it?” asked Dean, concerned.

“Queen Eve is in the Council room,” Castiel said and several gasps were heard around. “They’re working together to eliminate the orders of aviators, both ours and Elavorn’s. We don’t know why.”

“This is an outrage!” exclaimed someone. “Do you believe this nonsense?”

The rest of the dragons started speaking all at once, and Castiel couldn’t make out what they were saying. He was catching some words of agreement and protesting shouts and enraged comments, but he couldn’t understand what the overall feeling about the news was. He wondered for a moment whether he should have told them.

Kali ignored everyone, and looked at Castiel. “Tell me what to do,” she repeated.

Castiel took a deep breath. “Just concentrate. I’m going to reach for your mind now,” He looked at Dean. “Can you go take care of the guards and bring them in here? We are going to need clothes.”

Dean and Meg nodded, checked if anyone was coming, and left again. Castiel looked at Kali. If he was the key to all this, he’d make sure to play his part.

He focused, and prayed that Kali’s body was working the same way as Samandriel and Gabriel’s.


	18. Ending

Dean found the time to check on Castiel’s progress with the dragons only when he and Meg had brought in the last of the fifteen guards.

Apparently, the twelve dragons had all agreed to share Castiel’s blood, so Dean found himself facing four women and eight men, all stark naked, all in different sizes and shapes and colours, _all_ learning to handle bodies completely unfamiliar to them. All looked pretty much human, just as Samandriel and Lilith had, except for the occasional detail: a pair of horns here, a few clawed fingers there, a pair of slit-pupiled eyes – Dean preferred to focus on these details rather than the rest of their bodies.

The group seemed to be led by a woman who Dean guessed was the human version of Kali. She was dark-skinned and stunningly beautiful, her stare piercing, and her movements graceful, as if she had spent all her life in that body. She was dressed in a guard’s attire already, and looking at the chains that used to bind her legs.

“You freed us all, Castiel,” she was saying, as Dean entered the dome. “What you did was so simple, yet so incredible. I will lead you to your friends.”

“Thank you,” Castiel answered. “We need to hurry, though. They might decide to execute them any time now.”

“Virgil, Veritas,” Kali called. “Take care of the others while I’m gone. Cover yourselves in these guards’ uniforms and scatter around the garden. If someone looks out a window in the palace, they will just see guards, so they won’t get suspicious. If someone comes to check on you, attack them. Don’t kill if you don’t have to. Our target isn’t the soldiers, it’s the Council. We have suffered enough by their hands, time to get back what is ours.”

Approving murmurs were heard throughout the dome, and the dragons moved to obey. Kali nodded to Castiel, and left the dome. Castiel took the bottles in his hands, looked at Dean, and then followed Kali; Dean and Meg went after them.

The garden was still quiet; hopefully, the battle with the guards had gone unnoticed. Of course, it was a long way from there to the palace, but Lady Luck still seemed to be with them. Kali moved close to the wall so as to not draw attention to the group and herself, in case someone from the palace looked outside. They circled the wall until Kali stopped in front of a small canal, which went through the wall into the street. The hole in the wall wasn’t nearly big enough for a person to pass through, but Kali showed them that it led to a moat-like volume of water right next to the palace’s wall.

“This is the palace’s main water supply,” Kali explained. “You see that hole in the wall, right above the ground? That’s the kitchen. It’s underground, just a level above the dungeons. If we can get through there, we’ll get to the prisoners.”

Dean nodded. “Won’t they see us if we go through the kitchen?” he asked.

“Afraid of a few cooks, hot shot?” said Meg, and Dean rolled his eyes. They moved swiftly, approaching the opening on the wall. It was shut with bars, and it seemed to guarantee a free fall after going down.

“Can we even fit through here?” asked Castiel, measuring the opening.

Kali clenched her fist and punched through the wall above the opening. Dean covered his head with his arm, to protect himself from the debris, and coughed, unable to avoid the dust in his nose and mouth. Kali was already removing the rocks and dirt from between the hole she had just created and the original one, without looking particularly concerned about her hand. Dean watched, impressed, as the opening ended up being wide enough for a much bigger person than any of them were.

“Wow,” Dean muttered.

“Quickly,” ordered Kali, and jumped through the hole. Dean heard a splash and a scream after a second, and looked inside. The opening was leading into a well that resembled a pool in size, and Kali had landed inside it. A young boy was standing next to it with a bucket in his hands and a terrified expression on his face. He looked up and saw Dean staring at him; before he managed to run away, Kali emerged from the water and pressed her hand over the boy’s mouth, glaring at Dean.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Dean, before giving in and jumping. The wind whooshed around him before he fell into the freezing water. He pushed himself out, shivering, and two more splashes followed. Dean was vaguely aware of Castiel and Meg getting out of the water, as he looked around; the place was humid, depressing; the walls were made of dark granite bricks. The room was round, with three wide corridors heading out from it. It was lit by several torches around the walls.

Suddenly something about the boy seemed strange to Dean, and he looked at him more carefully. The boy stirred in Kali’s arms, and dropped his bucket while trying to hit her with it, and it finally clicked for Dean.

“Ben!?” he exclaimed, and pushed Kali aside. And yes, there he was, Lisa’s son, panting and terrified, dressed as a servant.

“Dean!” the boy shouted, and shot forward, hugging Dean tightly. “You’re here! You’ve come for us!”

Dean hugged back under the curious look of Kali. “Hey, kid,” he said, still astonished. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“They said they were going to protect us,” said Ben, shaking – from anger or shock, Dean couldn’t say. “They put me and the other girl here in the kitchen to work, and Dean, they brought Mom and the others to the dungeon! I thought everyone was gonna die!”

“We’re going to save them, okay?” said Dean. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Who are these people?” asked Ben.

“Well, you know Meg already,” said Dean, and he guessed he should tell the kid the truth. “And this is Castiel, my dragon, remember? He can change his shape, see?”

“That’s not a dragon,” said Ben, confused.

“Yeah, he can shape-shift,” said Dean impatiently. “And this is Kali, she’s also a dragon. A very powerful one, who’s gonna help save your Mom and the others.”

“Are you messing with me to make me feel better?” Ben asked, narrowing his eyes. “Are you working for them? Pretending to want to help so I can give you information they need?”

“What? Of course not!” Dean protested. “Look, I get the scepticism, okay? But I really need your help so I can get to the others. Do you know where they are?”

“Do you want me to take you there?” asked Ben, hesitating only for a moment before giving up the questions, to Dean’s relief.

“I can lead you there,” Kali reminded them. “I led the prisoners there myself. We don’t need to endanger the child.”

“Ben, listen to me,” said Dean, “I want you to go back to the kitchen and tell everyone to stay there. Don’t go out until we come and get you.”

“Or at least until the palace is demolished,” Meg added. Ben looked a little terrified, but he nodded.

“Take care of my mom, okay?” he told Dean, and Dean nodded back. Ben ran back to the kitchen, leaving his bucket behind.

“Follow me,” Kali commanded, but Castiel raised his palm to stop her.

“Wait,” he muttered. “Gabriel is –“

Dean’s heart beat loudly inside his chest as he waited for Castiel to finish talking with Gabriel. A couple of minutes later, Castiel’s eyes focused again, and he looked at Dean, his face a mask of terror.

“They found Sam and Gabriel,” Castiel said, breathlessly, and Dean felt his stomach turn to stone and his knees to water.

“What..?”

“They found them outside the meeting room,” Castiel said. “They think they’re alone here, but they’re going to –“ Cas took a deep breath, “Gabriel says they’re going to execute them as an example tonight. In public, he says. In the square, for everyone to see.”

“What the hell?” Dean asked breathlessly. “What the fuck is this? Why doesn’t Gabriel kick their asses?”

“They caught Sam first. He didn’t have time to turn before they caught him as well. He’s trapped in dragon steel constraints. If he tries anything, he’s probably going to lose a couple of limbs, and the Council will kill Sam to keep Gabriel in place. Dean, we need to get the others out _now.”_

“Screw that,” said Dean, panicking, “that’s my _brother_ you’re talking about, Cas!”

“That’s why we can’t risk attacking the entire army of the capital just with the four of us,” Castiel pointed out, and Dean could tell that he was trying not to panic, but damn it, no, he shouldn’t be in this position, to have to choose between Sammy and everyone else. What if they didn’t get there on time? What if –

“Move it, hot shot,” said Meg confidently, even if she looked a bit pale. “Let’s finish the job now. We’ll save your moose of a brother and his fiancé as soon as we get out of here.”

“What the fuck do you know?” snapped Dean.

“Dean,” Castiel called softly. Dean looked at him, feeling his body go numb in fear. Castiel’s forehead was sweaty and it was clear that he was a huge mess inside, but he cupped Dean’s face and placed a small kiss on his cheek. “We have until tonight. We’ll manage. I promise,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, and Dean felt Cas’ warm breath on his skin. “Let’s go now.”

Dean clenched his jaw and took in Castiel’s scent, before he pulled away and looked at Kali. She stared at him for a moment, possibly making sure that he wasn’t going to break down, and she started moving fast into the corridor on the right.

They ran through it, the sound of their feet echoing on the granite. As they continued, the corridor grew larger. Kali stopped every once in a while, to remember where to turn.

As they turned for the fourth time, they ran into three guards. The guards yelped in surprise and one of them ordered another to raise an alarm, but before any of them managed to make their first steps towards or away from the four intruders, Castiel had struck one man’s temple with his elbow, bringing him down, Meg had kicked the second one in the nuts and double-smacked his temples as his head went down, and Dean had shot the third one on the leg and punched his neck to make him fall unconscious. Kali had already passed by them and was striding towards a spot where the corridor was split in two. She looked at them as they ran to join her.

“The cell section starts here,” she said, pointing towards the left corridor, which was definitely wide enough to allow a grown dragon to fly through. “They keep the dragons in these dungeons. You boys, since you have the blood and the magic tricks, go over there to get them out; we will go on the right, where they’re keeping the humans. The corridors make a turn again and they meet on the other side. We’ll meet there as soon as possible.” They all nodded.

“Scream if you need anything, boys,” said Meg, as she and Kali disappeared in the right corridor. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Cas.

“Okay, let’s hurry,” he said, and they both headed to the left.

The corridor was huge, and Dean wondered how big the cells actually were. He decided to get straight to the point and take a look into the first door’s opening.  The door was wide enough for a dragon to fit, and it had a square opening on Dean’s eye height, big enough for a grown man to pass through and barred with slightly bent metal tubes thick as Dean’s arm. All Dean could see was scales so dirty he couldn’t be sure for their colour under the torchlight, pressed against the bars.

“Hello?” he called. “Who’s in there?”

“Who is this?” a surprised, muffled voice sounded from inside. Dean tried to recall who it belonged to, but he didn’t have to.

“Naomi,” Castiel called, “it’s Castiel. I’m with Dean and Meg. We’re here to let you out.”

“Castiel?” Naomi exclaimed, and Dean heard a few shuffling noises from the rest of the cells too, a few murmurs; some shouted at them, asking for help. “You’re alive? We thought you dead, all of you!”

“We escaped,” Castiel said simply. “We were left for dead in the ruins. Sam and Gabriel are close too. I will need you to trust me if you want to come out of there. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Anything it takes to get out of here. I cannot take it anymore, Castiel,” Naomi sighed, strained, and Dean realised she really didn’t have enough room to move; she wasn’t pressing the bars because she was trying to bend them, she just didn’t have a choice. “What are you going to do? We can’t open the doors. We’ve tried until we bled.”

“That’s because you don’t have enough room to get into position to hit them,” Dean pointed out. “We could break them from outside, but we would hurt you in the process. There’s another way.”

“You can’t break the bars or the locks,” Naomi said desperately. “These cages were made for dragons. Do you think they would use a metal we can melt or break?”

“Don’t worry, we won’t have to mess with the bars,” Castiel said. “Look, I’m going to get into your minds now, let you know what the plan is. I really, really need you to trust me.”

“Get into our minds?” Naomi asked, half-confused, half-annoyed. “How are you –“

Castiel closed his eyes and Dean heard Naomi gasp. He saw Castiel tighten his eyelids, trying hard, as more and more surprised exclaims echoed around the cages.

“Cas, no,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’ hand, “we can talk to them. Don’t pressure yourself!”

“They need to know I’m telling the truth,” Castiel muttered and pulled away from Dean’s grasp.

Castiel panted. Dean saw the sweat on Cas’ forehead, and he knew that he was trying too hard to touch all those minds at once. Even counting only the dragons of their own regiment, there were about eight of them – at least, Dean hoped so. Several surprised words were whispered across the corridor, like “Seglaag?” and “Blood?” and “I knew it” and “Are you joking?”, and Castiel whimpered as a thin trail of blood left his left nostril. Dean put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, over his wings, holding him tight, supporting him in the only way possible.

After a couple of minutes, Castiel relaxed with a sigh and opened his eyes wearily. “So many minds,” he muttered, and wiped the blood from his face, but if he said anything else, it was lost between the voices of the dragons panicking. Dean couldn’t blame them. If he had spent the last couple of days in a cell the size of a coffin and then had someone less than half his age show up and say to him that he was gonna save him by speaking directly into his mind, telling him that he needed to drink his holy blood or something to activate the hoodoo that would turn him into a whole new freaking species… well, yeah, he wouldn’t have been so happy or trusting either.

One voice stood out above the others. “Castiel! Come here and face me!”

Dean didn’t know whose voice that was, but it wasn’t very difficult to figure out. He followed Castiel as he walked towards one of the cells a few dozen yards ahead, and stopped in front of a door.

“I am here,” said Castiel softly. “Who am I speaking to?”

Dean already knew the answer. “My name is Lucifer, the Morning Star of Elavorn,” hissed a voice from inside. “I know who you are. I tried to find you, make you join our side to help destroy the demons that tormented us, but you were taken from me. I would have made you a glorious thing, a sight to be envied! And now you have fallen into the hands of the ones who stole you, and you try to free us all. How much they haven’t taught you, Castiel! Pick a side. Take your rider with you. You will have glory beyond imagining, and wealth, and everything you’ve dreamt of! You didn’t fight in Boreas against us; fight _with us_ now!”

Castiel smiled to himself. “I have already changed sides, Lucifer,” he said softly. “You believe the prophecies, don’t you? They said I had to give my blood. I am giving it to you willingly. After we have brought down the ones who seek to destroy us, we can talk again about who fights with whom. If my way hasn’t convinced you by the end of the day, I will consider joining you. Just give me this one day.”

Dean expected Lucifer to get angry, decline at once, insist on taking Cas with him. Dean cursed under his breath. Sam needed him, he needed to be saved, Dean had to leave this dungeon, and Lucifer was going to stop him, and he just couldn’t stand it.

But Lucifer surprised him.

“ _One_ day,” he declared. “You have only one day to change my mind. I would be foolish to send you away after all this search. Give me the blood.”

Dean was really uncomfortable in the thought of giving Lucifer the powers Cas had given to the other dragons, but there was no other choice. Castiel held the bottle between the bars; there were some shuffling noises as Lucifer managed to turn enough towards the door to let some of the blood fall into his mouth.

Castiel looked at Dean. “Let’s split and give them the blood,” he said. Dean nodded and took the other bottle from Castiel.

Cas took the left side of the corridor, and Dean took the right one. There were some occasional comments and doubts from the dragons, but eventually all gave in and took the blood. Dean preferred not to think how fucking creepy this whole thing was, and tried to pretend that time did not exist in this dungeon. He ignored the smashing noises from the other corridor, guessing that Kali’s fists could break more than just walls.

As soon as they were done, Dean threw away his empty bottle, and looked at Cas, whose bottle still had a few gulps worth of liquid left. Castiel approached Lucifer’s cage first; whether it because Cas had started with him and he believed Lucifer would be the first one ready or as a show of trust, Dean didn’t know. He decided to keep watch as Castiel was teaching Lucifer how to turn; he ignored the horrible, familiar sounds of cracking bones and melting skin. He glanced towards the cell when the sounds had stopped, and saw Castiel putting his arms through the opening, pulling out a man and letting him stand on his own. Dean felt like he had witnessed a bizarre, really fucked up kind of birth. Lucifer had always been a terrifying thought in his mind; he couldn’t relate the terrifying dragon he was imagining to the fair-haired, kind of scruffy man he was seeing there.

Besides, damn it, Dean couldn’t really take anyone seriously when he had a full view of their butt cheeks.

“Okay,” Dean said, “let’s take care of the rest a little quicker, huh? My brother’s out there with his ass on the line for us.”

“So is mine, from what I’m hearing,” Lucifer said, dusting off the dirt of the cell.

Before Dean could answer, Castiel turned to Lucifer. “Try to concentrate on the next dragon’s mind,” Castiel explained. “Try to think of the shape you want them to take, think of your own body the way it is now; they will get the feeling the way you feel it and will have to try and imitate it. With your help, we can finish faster.”

“So I have the power to turn dragons into humans at will?” asked Lucifer, and Dean really, really disliked his smirk and tone.

“No,” said Castiel impatiently. “They will have to cooperate, and after you help them do it the first time, _they_ will have control over it, not you. Besides, it only works on dragons who have some of my blood inside them; you can’t do it on everyone.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Worth a shot,” he commented, as he turned around to the next cell, but then he looked at Castiel again. “Why don’t _I_ have my wings?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Castiel. “If we live through this, I’ll try to find out. Now please, help me with the others.”

Lucifer didn’t insist, and went to the cage next to his own, trying to imitate what Castiel had done for him. Dean followed Cas to the beginning of the corridor, where Naomi was, and watched as in a matter of moments, Castiel was helping an elegant middle-aged woman climb out of the opening on the door. She nodded in thanks, and moved to the cage next to hers without a second thought.

In less than half an hour, Dean started feeling uncomfortable for being clothed. The newly turned dragons didn’t have a sense of shame for their bodies, and Dean had given up on trying to not stare too much at exposed genitalia. He felt rather uneasy at first, especially when coming face to face with dragons he had known for a while, like Anna or Samandriel or, damn it, _Michael_ , but they didn’t seem to mind, since, as Castiel reminded him, Dean had been looking at them while they were naked all this time, just under different standards. Not very surprisingly but interestingly enough, they all looked very different from each other. Dean noticed none of them had a navel, all of them had random scaly patterns on their skin, and there were many with leftover draconic characteristics; Anna and Michael had kept their wings, Crowley and two of the Elavorni ones still had their tails, and there were several variations of slit pupils, pointy teeth, claws and one disturbing case of horns. Most were struggling to balance and get used to their new anatomy, except maybe the one whom Dean identified as Balthazar, who was way too excited by the experience. By the end of the squeezing-out, as Dean had decided to call the whole thing, because it was far too ridiculous for him to call it a rescue mission or a mission whatsoever, Dean noticed that Lucifer now actually _had_ wings. He tried to comment on it, but in the end he decided to ignore it and assume that maybe the first form the dragons took wasn’t the final one; Cas didn’t have wings at the beginning, either.

Castiel had to yell a few times for the rest of them to settle down. Dean saw Michael looking pissed, and he couldn’t blame him; he was supposed to be the boss until Cas came along. Dean was worried for a second that Michael was going to cause trouble, but he just sat there quietly, helping the ones around him calm down.

Dean counted heads. There were eight of their own, as he had hoped; nobody was missing. There were also seven Elavorni, plus himself and Castiel. To his relief, the Elavorni seemed cooperative enough; he guessed that wanting to get out of this dump was more important to them than the war they’d been fighting so far.

“Wait,” Dean said, suddenly realising something. “Where’s Metatron?”

“That traitor is dead,” Michael spat. “Two of us left the Council’s dragons’ sight just enough to kill him while we were on the way here.  We got a good beating out of it, but it was worth it. I doubt the pieces left of him are enough for even a crow to dine on.”

Dean really couldn’t even pretend to be sad. “And Gordon?”

“Also dead,” said a blonde woman from Elavorn. “In the middle of the battle, when he was brought down from his dragon, he decided to switch sides again. In front of our freaking faces, he said that he had joined us to bring us to the capital and destroy us. I think someone ate him.”

Dean tried to find something to say, but before he did, Castiel spoke out.

“I know that this is a confusing time, but I need you to listen to me now,” Castiel called out, and the last few murmurs stopped. “Two of our own have managed to find out what the Council and the Queen of Elavorn want to do with us, and they are planning to eliminate us all. We don’t know why, we don’t know how, but we know that they’ve been using us, and that they’ve started their slaughter with making us kill each other. It’s obvious that the governments are not enemies; they’re working together, and they’ve been making us fight all this time. They’re going to execute Sam and Gabriel, the ones who risked everything in order for us to know the governments’ plans, unless we act now. I need us all to forget our past arguments and work together, for our kind and for the end of the battles between us. I know you’re more tired of this war than I am, because I am young and haven’t suffered as much as you have. We have a chance to stop this.”

“Okay, who died and made you boss?” an Elavorni asked, and Castiel blushed; Dean noticed it was the young girl with the disturbing case of horns. “What gives you the right to lead us?”

“Shut the fuck up, Acheri,” Lucifer spat, to Dean’s surprise. “If you don’t like it, crawl back to that pissing cage and stay there until the end of time, for all I care. I didn’t see _you_ getting any brilliant ideas on how to escape this hellhole. Fuckin’ _Gods._ ” The one named Acheri obeyed, and Dean hated the fact that he now liked Lucifer a little more.

“What about our aviators, Castiel?” Anna asked, worried. Dean noticed she was holding Inias’ hand, and he momentarily wondered how it must have been for them to hold hands for the first time.

“Kali, the King’s dragon, is on our side,” Castiel explained. “She and Meg have gone to the other corridor to free them. We will meet them at the end of this one here. But first I have to know if you are all willing to leave your differences aside for the sake of the peace we never had. I need to know if we can trust each other. There’s no chance this will work if we start fighting to finish a fake war.”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Balthazar, “but I’m planning to take advantage of this new situation in every way I can.”

“Do we all agree so we can hurry the fuck away from here?” asked Dean impatiently, and he received agreeing sounds from everyone. “Let’s go, then,” he said, pointing towards the end of the corridor. “Go back to dragon-mode and let’s fuck some shit up!”

This time, the voices from the small crowd in front of him were far more enthusiastic. Shouting turned into roaring as one by one the dragons went back to their original forms, and wings beat against the heavy air of the dungeon. One by one, the dragons flew towards the end of the corridor, in search of their aviators, and determined to create their own ending and make a new beginning out of it.

Dean looked at Castiel, who hadn’t changed shape.

“Aren’t you going to –“ Dean started.

“No,” Castiel said. “I can still fly like this. Can you hold on to me?”

“Wait,” Dean said as Castiel approached him and put his arms under Dean’s, “I’m not sure that – _son of a bitch!”_

Castiel took off, and Dean held on to him desperately, wrapping his arms and legs around Cas’ shoulders and waist like an octopus. Damn, no, this was way more unpleasant than riding on Castiel’s back. Dean closed his eyes tight, almost whimpering, wishing for this to be over.

 _We’re almost there,_ he heard Cas’ voice inside his head.

 _I hate your guts, Cas,_ answered Dean. _If you ever do this to me again, I’ll kill you._

_Maybe you can drink some of my blood and grow your own wings._

_Don’t talk about your blood like it’s a freaking beverage, you freak. And I already have your blood in me, remember?_

_Yes, but it seems whoever consumes it has better results. We should try that._

_Put me down so I can use the bottle and we’ll talk about it._

Dean felt Castiel’s tiny smile against his skin, and maybe he could have commented further, but he felt Cas slow down and land, and decided to open his eyes and get off him.

They were standing in a cavern, chilly and rocky, more like a natural cave than a dungeon. Sunlight was coming in from an opening above them, a hole large enough for one dragon at a time to pass through. Dean looked around and, yes, they were all here. Kali and Meg were sitting in a corner, Meg bandaging Kali’s injured hands; Dean guessed she wasn’t invincible, after all. Benny was punching Balthazar affectionately, Jo was hugging Anna, Bela was already on Abaddon’s shoulders, and Kevin and Crowley were shouting at each other. Charlie was literally bouncing around Samandriel, which made Dean really happy; General Mills was checking Naomi for injuries, while Lisa and Inias were asking Meg about Ben, if she had seen him, if he was alive. To his surprise, Dean noticed Michael taking care of Adam, and saw the kid climbing on the great dragon’s shoulders. He wondered when the hell that had happened, but he guessed he had missed a lot of things during the battle at Boreas.

Dean noticed Linda Tran and Garth comforting each other and lowered his eyes. They had both lost their dragons, Hester and Rachel, and Dean really didn’t want to know how that felt.

He looked at the other dragons, the ones he’d never met. He saw two Devil’s Seeds (one yellow-eyed and one with eyes blacker than its skin), one dark green Emeray, a very small Eastern that didn’t look threatening at all and must have been younger than Samandriel, a brick-red Firebreather, and a Striker; Dean’s stomach turned when he realised that all six of them had lost their aviators.

It wasn’t difficult to spot Lucifer. The large Royal stood out from a distance, as he was the largest dragon Dean had ever seen. It wasn’t just his species that reminded Dean of Gabriel; he could actually see the relation. The dragon’s expressions and movements actually had a little something that Dean had seen before.

Lucifer didn’t pay much attention to anything around him, though, because he was the only Elavorni to find his aviator. Dean looked at the small woman and wondered how the hell she was special enough to finally be the one Lucifer had chosen as his rider. She was a petite brunette rocking the red and black armour of Elavorn, and she seemed to completely ignore the large cut on her forehead.

To Dean’s surprise, when she looked at him, she said something to Lucifer and then approached him and Castiel.

“You’re Dean, right?” she asked.

Dean blinked. “Yeah. Who are you?”

“My name’s Ruby,” she introduced herself, and Dean was sure that he had heard that name somewhere recently. “They told me your brother, Sam, is taken captive. Is it true?”

“Yes, and we’d better hurry, before he’s killed,” said Dean. “Don’t you dare give me your condolences yet.”

“No, of course not,” she said, taken aback. “I just want to say… I know your brother. And I’ll make sure we’ll save him, okay?”

Then it clicked. “Ruby?” Dean exclaimed. “ _You’re_ the one my brother was drooling after back in Elaurans? And you’re _Lucifer’s_ freaking rider _?_ ”

“I was just in the army then,” Ruby said impatiently. “I just wanted to say –“

“You were using my brother, weren’t you?” snapped Dean. “You were spying on the Agorreshian army! That’s why you’re worthy to ride the boss!”

“Not the army,” explained Ruby. “I wanted to find out about the Seglaag, but your brother wouldn’t talk, so I gave up on it and just enjoyed the company.”

“Yeah, is that why you disappeared on him?”

“I had to,” protested Ruby, but then she shook her head. “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me. I just want you to know that I’ll do anything to save your brother, okay? If you’ll believe nothing else, just know that the _least_ I feel for him is respect. I don’t want him harmed.”

Dean turned his back on her and didn’t speak. He felt Castiel’s hand touching his own gently, and waited a few seconds for the crowd in front of him to stop explaining to each other what they’d just learnt; he thought about waiting until they stopped staring at Cas, but he guessed that wouldn’t happen.

“Okay people,” he said, “…and dragons, I guess. Look, I’m going to repeat this for everyone to hear: my brother Sam and Gabriel found out that Queen Eve is casually hanging out with the Council and King Roman, deciding what to do with the aviator armies of both the capital and Elavorn. They were expecting all of us to kill each other, yet when we did it outside their own terms, they tried to imprison us all and bring us down. The first victims are going to be Sam and Gabriel, for daring to find out the truth. I don’t know about you, but I ain’t gonna let that happen.”

“The Council’s dragons are with you too,” said Kali, taking her place beside Dean. “We are tired of the oppression and spending our lives in chains. We have had enough of this. We want our freedom, and we shall all help to get it. What do you say?”

Many yelled excitedly, angrily, full of heat. Michael stepped up and looked at the crowd.

“For centuries we have looked only at what divides us,” he said. “For years and years we have killed each other, and for what? Because some of us happened to be born in a different region than the other? What are we even fighting for? Because we’re used to it? Whatever started this war is long gone, and we have been blind not to see it. They say demons started this war. Well, I say the real demons are the ones inside this very palace, ruling us all!” Angry yelling and chanting followed Michael’s words, and he waited a few moments before continuing. “Let us free ourselves from the hatred for each other, my brothers, my sisters,” he bellowed. “Let us take back what is ours! Let us begin our lives again, mourn our dead, live a good life to honour what they didn’t have the chance to have!”

Dean felt his spine shudder at the sound of chants that took over the cavern, and looked at Cas, who caught his hand without a word. Lucifer walked up and stood next to Michael.

“Today is a big day,” he called. “Today, we declare the war to be over, whether the Council and the Queen like it or not. We are here, all of us, and we are more powerful than ever before. We will bring those bastards down and bathe in their filthy blood! We will show them who we are and what we can do! They cannot control us, and they will not enslave us ever again!”

The crowd yelled in agreement again, and stomped their feet, and the dragons crouched for their aviators to climb on their shoulders; the small Eastern one from Elavorn pulled Garth on top of him, and the lonely Emeray crouched for Linda Tran to climb on her shoulders. Adam jumped on Michael’s shoulders as Ruby climbed on Lucifer’s neck. Kali roared as she transformed, ripping her clothes off, and she pushed her head under Meg to make her ride on her back.

Dean breathed heavily, looking at Castiel. Already naked, Castiel gave Dean a pile of his clothes and smiled at him. Dean grinned and this time he kept watching as Castiel stretched and went back to his dragon shape, growling and roaring loudly enough to make the cavern tremble. Dean laughed loudly and he jumped on Cas’ shoulders, Castiel’s clothes in his hands and the almost empty bottle hanging from a string on his belt, unharnessed, like everyone else, and looked at them all.

“Let’s go bring ‘em hell!” he yelled, and held on tight as Castiel flew towards the opening, roaring, followed by the voices of both the dragons and aviators; Dean heard the walls around the opening break and crumble as the dragons demolished it to have more room to fly through.

They shot up into the air, and Dean looked down; they were above the other side of the palace’s garden, and underneath them all hell was breaking loose. Soldiers were freaking out, running about, trying to understand where the hell all those dragons had come from. Kali dived, screeching, in a speed that Dean wouldn’t have thought possible, and shot a fire bolt right at the palace’s gate. Not five seconds later, Dean heard the screeching and roaring of eleven more dragons as they went back to their original shapes. Soon, the entire Council’s personal army was airborne, following Kali up to meet the others. Dean was astonished; twenty-eight dragons, more than he had ever hoped to see all together, and all ready to fight.

“To the main square!” Michael commanded, and they all dived, flying low, just high enough to avoid the rooftops. Terrified screams echoed throughout the streets. One of the Elavorni, that damn ice-eyed Devil’s Seed, shot a ball of acid on a rooftop, making it melt instantly; Lucifer slowed down enough to slap her with his tail right in the face to put her back into discipline. Dean chuckled; he really hadn’t liked her.

 _What are you laughing about?_ asked Castiel inside Dean’s head.

_Nothing, just enjoying a bit of tail-slappin’._

_If you enjoy violence, you’re about to have a great time._

_It’s impressive, though, huh? Did you ever think we could make these guys work together?_

_To be honest, I don’t think we were the ones who made them. I think they were just looking for something to give them the first spark to end the war._

_Or maybe you’re controlling them through your blood._

_You know I’m not._

_Just joking, Cas._

_I can’t control anyone. You have my blood too. I don’t think you believe I’m controlling you, right?_

_Gee, Cas, I was only joking. Besides, I think we established that you need to drink the blood to get all the cool stuff that come with it._

_Do you want to turn into a dragon, Dean?_ Cas asked, and Dean was really proud of the joking tone in his dragon’s inner voice.

_Don’t challenge me._

_Don’t ask for “cool stuff”, then. Otherwise you’ll really have to drink the blood._

Dean instinctively recalled something he hadn’t thought about for a long time. _Don’t deny him anything_. Of course, Cas hadn’t really asked. But Dean couldn’t help it.

 _Oh, screw this._ Dean, knowing that he should probably think more about those things, abruptly pulled the bottle from his belt, snapping the string that held it there, removed the cork with his teeth and downed the last drops of blood.

 _What did you just do?_ asked Castiel, astonished.

 _I told you, don’t challenge me._ Dean licked his teeth, half-removing the coppery, sweet taste from his mouth, half-checking if they’d become pointed – which, thank the Gods, hadn’t happened.

_Dean, I didn’t mean it! Who knows what this might do to you!_

_Well, we’ll find out soon enough. If I can breathe fire to burn my brother’s executioner, I’ll gladly do it._

_You’re extremely careless._

_I like to think of myself as a daredevil._

Dean didn’t have to look at Castiel to know he was rolling his eyes.

It didn’t take them long to see the central square underneath them. Panicking people were already running towards it, and Dean soon understood why. The square was full of people, and in the middle of it was a stage. Sam and Gabriel were tied on it, their hands and feet and necks hidden behind their bounds, Gabriel’s wings tied on his back with strong chains and leather straps. Most people were cheering and throwing vegetables on the stage; the ones who had seen the dragons coming were screaming or running away. A few priests of the angels in the front were yelling at the people sitting in the grandstand behind the stage, where Dean saw the twelve members of the Council, King Roman included, plus the Queen of Elavorn and the five Lords of the surrounding regions – one of whom was, of course, Samuel Campbell. Dean wondered if he could spit on him from this distance.

Castiel halted and hovered above the square. The pale, blood-drained faces of the Council were the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen; the screams of the people who were throwing things at Sam and Gabe became music in his ears. The twenty-seven dragons slowed down and started flying in circles around the square.

“People of Agorresh!” Castiel bellowed, making movement almost stop underneath him, forcing the people to look up. “Listen to what we have to say!”

Michael flew lower. “People of Agorresh,” he repeated, “Listen to our voices. We are your armies! We come from the Capital and Elavorn and from every other corner of the island! We have spent our lives willing to die for you, and now we find that we have failed. The real danger you’re facing is not above you; we wish you no harm. The real danger is the people you worship, sitting there with jewels around their necks and poison in their souls, wishing only to rule and trick you like they have ruled and tricked us for centuries!”

Lucifer left the circle of dragons, flying closer to Michael. “Your King and Queen and Lords have all tricked us as well as they have tricked you, Agorreshians,” he yelled. “You’ve been sending your children to war to be killed, while the war has been nothing but a lie to make sure they’re keeping us dragons, the beings you once worshipped, at bay. We would help you with everything you asked, and yet your leaders took advantage of us, made us kill each other and your young, made us _belong_ to them. Over the past few days, seven dragons have been killed in this war; there are twenty-eight of us left. _One fifth_ of the remaining dragons have been eliminated only in one battle. This will stop today.”

“You have no authority here,” yelled King Roman, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from laughing with the rest.

“Who’re gonna stop us?” shouted Dean. “Haven’t you noticed? Even your own dragons have turned against you. Declare the war to be over and free the regiments.”

“The war is already over,” shouted Queen Eve, “as long as you return to the dungeons. No more humans have to be slain for it. This is a celebration you’re ruining! Are you so selfish?”

“No, you bitch, this isn’t a celebration,” growled Dean, “this is my brother and my friend ready to be sacrificed for your own bullshit purposes. Let them go and –“

Dean never managed to finish his sentence. He only managed to catch a glimpse of the guard with the pistol next to the grandstand before he heard the bang and felt the blow to his left shoulder. He grunted as he felt himself slip from Castiel’s back, the small pack of clothes still in his hands as if they would protect him. He heard Castiel’s voice calling his name, and he heard roaring followed by yelling and guns shooting.

Damn, either he was really, really high, or time had slowed down. He felt himself falling and he wondered if the bullet would leave his body as he fell. He realised he wasn’t feeling his arm.

Out of nowhere, something caught him and stopped his fall. Losing his breath, Dean took in information; he found himself facing tan scales and Charlie’s relieved smile on a pale face somewhere above, and realised he was in Samandriel’s talons.

Castiel was right next to them in less than a second, and Dean was aware of a few words being exchanged between Cas and Samandriel and Charlie, but the sounds of gunshots and dragons roaring wasn’t helping and the pain in his shoulder was really messing with his head. He felt Samandriel placing him on Castiel’s back gently, and saw the world rising up as Cas flew behind a building, away from the mayhem.

Dean groaned as Castiel twisted a bit to let him down gently, and landed on his right side. Castiel was next to him in his human form in a matter of seconds, and Dean felt gentle fingers on his shoulder. To his surprise, the pain wasn’t piercing; it was blunt, like a bruise.

“Let me take a look,” said Castiel softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” muttered Dean, and let Castiel take off his leather armour and his chain mail and let them fall to his side.

“There is no blood,” Castiel murmured. “Are you sure it hit you?”

“Do you think I fell just for kicks?” groaned Dean. He tried to help by removing his tunic, but Castiel slapped his hand and did it himself. Dean, despite the sounds of battle from right around the corner, heard Castiel gasp.

“That bad, huh?” Dean tried to joke, not daring to look at his wound.

“Dean,” Castiel muttered, “you need to see this.”

Dean looked down and immediately felt the need to get away from his own skin. “Son of a bitch,” he gasped. “What the hell is that!?”

Castiel gently touched Dean’s shoulder joint, where the skin smoothly changed into the feeling of dragon scales. It was still skin, the colour was the same, but it was hard as a rock and numb under Castiel’s fingers. As he touched it, his hand moving over Dean’s shaking chest, the scaly part shimmered with a slight green aura and disappeared, as if the scaly pattern was being absorbed by Dean’s skin. It was completely gone after less than thirty seconds, and there was no wound.

Dean looked at Cas, terrified. “What the hell?” he asked.

Castiel returned the look. “Well, you did drink some of my blood.”

“That wasn’t supposed to work on humans!”

“You had already lost your weakness against cold,” Castiel recalled. “I believe you just lost your weakness to certain injuries too.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dean murmured.

“It did save your life,” Castiel commented. “Are you ready to go back?”

“You’re taking this way too calmly.”

“Dean, I was born from an egg and right now I’ve got hair growing on my skin and nails I can bite without stabbing my palate. Of course I’m calm.” Dean snorted as Castiel gave him a hand. “Can you get up?”

Dean tried to focus on the sounds of battle, and nodded. There was no need to whine about this; he’d brought it on himself, and he’d have the time to freak out later. Cas turned back into his dragon form, shooting Dean glances to make sure he was okay. Dean put on his armour again, grabbed Castiel’s clothes and jumped on his back a second before Cas took off.

“Do you think I’ll be able to turn into a dragon?” asked Dean, a little worried, but curious.

“No, I don’t think so,” answered Castiel, as evenly as ever, “but you never know. Can you shoot those archers, please?”

Dean took out the gun from his thigh holster and aimed at the lines of archers in front of the grandstand. He shot once, twice, and one man fell down. Dean flattened against Castiel’s back as he passed by Samandriel and Balthazar who were struggling with one of the Council’s Frostlings, who had apparently swapped loyalties again.

But still, Dean thought, there were twenty-seven – no, scratch that, twenty-six, there was another one of the Council’s – against two, apparently. The Council and the Queen didn’t have a chance. Most of the soldiers had escaped already; only a few loyal ones remained, trying to bring the dragons down and failing. Innocent bystanders had been allowed to leave the frenzy of the battle, and only a few priests still remained atop the stage, trying to break the bonds of Sam and the strange winged man who they believed, apparently, to be the Seglaag. The Council members had tried to escape several times, but the dragons above stopped them in one way or another, so they were now hiding under the half-destroyed grandstand. The dragons, Dean realised, didn’t want the Council dead; they just wanted it defeated beyond comprehension.

Dean held on as Castiel came closer to the Frostling that Samandriel and Balthazar were fighting, and clawed violently at the base of his tail to make him lose his balance. The Frostling screeched in pain and tried to fly off, but Castiel followed closely; the archers wouldn’t risk shooting, in case they brought down their own. Castiel shared a look with Samandriel and the younger dragon sprayed the Frostling’s face with gas. The Frostling coughed and fell a few dozen feet lower, his tail bleeding, his movements disoriented; Castiel dived as the Frostling was falling and hit him hard with his own tail to make him rise back up, toss him back up where Balthazar was waiting to spray him right in the eyes with acid. Dean shuddered as the Frostling screeched horribly and fell, clawing at his own face and burning his own talons. He landed right behind the stage, destroying half of the grandstands and flattening four members of the Council under him. He struggled desperately to get up for a few moments, clawing at things around him frantically, until Anna dived next to him and cut his throat.

The priests, using whatever tools they had, which Dean couldn’t see, managed to pick the locks of Sam and Gabriel’s bonds just in time. Dean managed to see Gabriel turning back into his dragon form and Sam jumping on his shoulders before they took off, and he wondered when the hell had getting the right to ride a dragon become so easy.

Gabriel followed the others in hunting down the soldiers and removing them from the square. The remaining archers and snipers soon gave up and ran for cover. The last fighting Emeray standing up for the Council surrendered and begged for mercy in front of Michael. Lucifer approached, bit down on the Emeray’s throat and ripped it off. The dragon fell down in the middle of the square, unable to even scream his agony, as his vocal chords were in Lucifer’s mouth.

The dragons slowly landed around the square, a few on the ground, a few blocking the streets, a few on rooftops. The silence that followed the horrible screeching and slashing and gunshots was uncomfortable at best. Michael and Lucifer both roared and the sound echoed around the city.

Slowly, hesitantly, the remaining Council members crawled out of their holes. King Roman stood on the stage, keeping his posture, and helped Queen Eve stand next to him. The Queen’s white dress was dirty with dust and blood, and the King had a huge wound on his shoulder, but they were both standing.

King Roman bent down, picked up a gun, looked around and pointed it at Jody Mills, who was looking at him from Naomi’s shoulders, in the middle of the Southern Road.

“You traitor,” he spat. “You swore to protect the kingdom. I trusted you.”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to blame us for anything, your Majesty,” answered Jody, her tone mocking. “We broke a fake agreement. What’s the harm?”

“Besides,” Michael said, “we are indeed protecting the kingdom. From you.”

“And what are you going to do?” hissed Queen Eve. “Destroy Agorresh to have your revenge?”

“We do not wish Agorresh destroyed,” said Michael. “We want it to be a peaceful place, fit  
for both our children and yours. We will not have it rotten and disgraced as you’d have it.”

“We will not back down,” said King Roman, and Dean groaned to himself. “Humans have ruled Agorresh since the dawn of time. Dragons are not rulers.”

“But they are,” came a voice from the side of the square and everyone looked towards the young priestess who had spoken. Dean recognised Sister Tessa from among the people who had started gathering again in the square, now that the battle was over.

“Don’t you see?” she said. “The prophecy is fulfilled. _Born from betrayal, in the image of the dragon, with the blood of the angels, the Seglaag will shed blood and make the armies fight as one, and when the Demons are destroyed, peace will be restored._ The winged man you imprisoned and bound in the square turned into a dragon; he is one of them, and you can’t see it, you are naught but blind fools. _This_ is the sacred army from the Heavens. Blood is spilt and the armies have made peace.” She looked at the King and Queen without fear in her eyes. “You are the demons of the prophecy, and the Seglaag have spoken. You shall be destroyed for the rest of us to live in peace.”

Several bystanders in the back cheered, others started applauding. Hesitantly, the crowd started chanting. King Roman and Queen Eve looked around, starting to panic; Dean couldn’t make out what the crowd was saying at first, and then he realised they were answering Tessa’s words with a goodbye: “ _with good winds”, “with good winds”._ They were sending their rulers away; either because they believed in the prophecy, or because the prophecy was a good reason for them to say out loud what they hadn’t dared to for years; Dean didn’t know which, couldn’t know. But he felt a shudder run (down or up) his spine as the chanting grew louder, and he could do nothing but watch as the dragons of the Council joined in.

Dean, despite the commotion, noticed Castiel exchanging looks with Gabriel, who was standing between Michael and Lucifer; he guessed there was some telepathic talk happening between them that he wasn’t a part of. As Castiel nodded and the crowd kept cheering, Gabriel leaned towards Lucifer at first and then Michael and whispered something to them. A few seconds later, they all roared loudly to make the crowd stop. When the roaring stopped, deafening silence fell in the square.

“Humans of Agorresh,” called Lucifer, “the young priestess is right.  The Seglaag, the holy dragon, has indeed arrived, and blessed the rest of us with his powers. We will cleanse this world from its rotten authority. You used to worship us a long time ago; we ask only for your respect now.”

“However, we are merciful even to those who don’t deserve it,” said Michael. “The war your rulers started have made many of our kind flee to the Uncharted Lands. These people will receive the same treatment.”

“You must be joking,” yelled Queen Eve. “You can’t just overthrow us! You can’t just go around destroying ruling systems that have worked for thousands of years! Who do you think you are?”

“The point is, who do you think you will be in a month’s time, sister,” said Gabriel. “(An unimportant refugee,) In a boat, in the middle of the ocean, that’s who.”

Michael turned towards the people. “You need not be afraid,” he called. “Nothing will change for you, except that your children will not be forced to fight and kill and be killed in a fake war. Your people and ours will live in peace, and we will rule fairly, sharing the power and responsibilities with your kind. We will not make you servants, because we know the pain of being one.”

“Someone remove those liars from my sight,” said Lucifer, pointing at the remaining members of the Council. One of his own, a Striker whose name Dean didn’t know, approached them and roared, moving towards them to make them retreat towards the palace, leading them to the dungeons. The Council members protested and yelled, with King Roman and Queen Eve shouting threats. Dean saw his grandfather turn around and spit.

“Damn you all!” Samuel Campbell yelled. “Damn you to hell, Dean and Sam Winchester! You betrayed your own kin! You turned your back on us! You dishonour the history of your family! You –“

He was interrupted by the Striker behind him shooting a tiny fire bolt between Samuel’s feet, forcing him to keep going. Dean wanted to answer, he longed to shout back, say that _no, you creepy old son of a bitch, you had your own grandchildren fight in a war only you were benefiting from. If you’d tried to understand dragons instead of making them kill each other, you would have done such a better job. You don’t get to blame me._ But as he opened his mouth, he felt a soft thought calming his own.

_Let it go, Dean. He’s not worth it. Everyone here knows he’s not worth it. You have already proven yourself. Leave him be._

The crowd applauded again, shouting with joy, stomping their feet, chanting for the dragons. Others had collapsed in panic; things had suddenly changed so much. Dean bit his lip. _Are you sure we did the right thing?_

_Of course we did. Change is a difficult thing. They’ll get used to it._

Dean sighed shakily, staring at the former rulers being taken away. _Why didn’t you let them know who the Seglaag actually is, Cas?_

_Don’t worry, they will know. They did see Gabriel in his human form, right?_

_Yes, so?_

_Well, there you go. They have a Seglaag to worship._

_So Gabriel is going to pretend to be the Seglaag?_

_If anyone asks, yes. He’s ready to take the burden._

_But why not let them know it was you? We could have fame, wealth, power, all that crap. We could shape our own little part of the world. Wouldn’t you like that?_

_Do you really want that? Do you want fame and wealth and power?_

_Well. I don’t know. Who doesn’t, I guess._

_Come on, Dean. Be a little more surprising. We saved both our kinds. The people might not ever learn who started the revolution, but the ones who will have the power will always know and remember. Is power and riches all you want to ask of them?_

_Do you have anything better in mind?_

Castiel smiled. _Oh, yes_ , he said enigmatically _. I really think I do._

Dean didn’t insist. He watched as the dragons started marching towards the palace, the people behind them, following. People peeked out their windows and then joined the crowd in the streets, shouting that the war was over.

It really was, Dean thought. It really was over. A little hint of panic planted itself in Dean’s chest; war was the only thing he knew. What did peace feel like? What if whoever was picked to rule now did the same shitty job? What would Dean do now?

He felt rather than heard Gabriel approach him and Castiel, and turned around to face Sam, who was still on the Royal’s shoulders.

“You got yourself a dragon in the end, huh, Sammy?” Dean asked, as Castiel started walking at the end of the crowd.

“I guess a more accurate description would be that this dragon got himself a human, but I’m okay with that,” shrugged Sam, and Dean laughed for the first time in a while.

“So, Sammy,” he said, “what are you going to do now?”

Sam shrugged again. “I’ve no idea,” he answered, “and you know what? For the first time, it doesn’t bother me. The world is big and I’m free to look at it all for the first time. Or at least, you know, I can actually go to a university here and study about it before I get to look at it.”

“Gee, Samsquatch, I’m so lucky to have you,” commented Gabriel. “At least I’m close to Kali now, and we can hide better this time, now that we can both make ourselves fit inside a carriage. Man, I always wanted to see the inside of a fancy carriage without taking it apart.”

Sam looked at Castiel. “Do you think the effects of your blood are permanent?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Only time will show.”

“In any case, I’ll stick around,” Gabriel said. “If it isn’t permanent, I’ll keep you here and take advantage of you when I need you. You ain’t escaping me.”

Castiel laughed. “Or so you think.”

Dean smirked as Castiel left the ground and flew into the distance.


	19. Beginning

Dean had never taken part in a celebration that lasted longer than the one after the destruction of the central square. The ninth day of December was declared a national holiday and celebration day by the new government, and the partying for the ending of the war that had tormented the people for hundreds of years lasted an entire week.

It became known soon after the events in the square, and mostly because of the demand of the priests of the Angels, that Gabriel was the Seglaag. They asked for his presence in the temple to make his model for a statue that they intended to build, and while at first he was enjoying the attention he had been deprived of, living so many years as a hermit while having the ego of a peacock during mating season, his enthusiasm started to fade away when his presence was asked during the rituals and the prayers and, as he put it, “all that depressing jazz”. He soon asked for privacy, so that he could help his siblings rebuild the nation, and stopped going to the temple after blessing the priests a few dozen times. Yeah, Dean thought, if it had been Castiel, they would have found him rocking back and forth in a dark alley before the second day was over.

Dean would have preferred to laugh at Gabriel’s distress and celebrate with the rest of the city all the time, but of course, it wasn’t that easy. Right now, the only people who knew about the war ending were the ones in the Capital. Messages had to be sent in every region, explaining both why they had to call their soldiers back home and why they shouldn’t wait for their Lords to return for dinner. All of the Council, plus the Lords and Queen Eve, were sentenced to exile in the Uncharted Lands, just as Michael had said, and were kept in the dungeons until further notice. They had a long way to travel, after all, to get to the ocean, and they had to wait for the announcements of the ones who would take care of the coastal areas, which was of course another issue to be solved.

As things were, it had been decided that there would be as many dragons as there were humans in the government from now on; if this had been impractical until now due to the palace and conference hall’s size and shape, it had been solved by the newly obtained shape-shifting abilities of this generation of dragons. Nobody had any idea on whether the effects would be permanent, but for now, the dragons seemed to take advantage of the situation; most of them had managed to control their transformations easily, and were able to change into a hundred different shapes and sizes, bringing the paintings of the angel temple to life, in some cases.

The angel temple had fully supported the change in authority, and had stated that they would offer any help they could, so the High Priestess, Mother Sarah, became a member of the new Council. It was hard to pick the rest of the new members of the Council, though, and since now there weren’t any official rules that forced the former aviators and their dragons to stick together, the ex-soldiers had to ask themselves whether they should be separated. Every single one of them rejected the idea in the end, being too used to being around each other, and decided to rule in pairs. The Council had to have twelve members by tradition, but they decided that eight would be a more appropriate number. Michael took the lead, followed by Adam Milligan, Jody Mills and Naomi, Kevin Tran and Crowley, Kali, and of course, Mother Sarah. Meg had refused to take a place in the Council, saying she did not deserve it, even though she was considered as much of a hero as Dean, Castiel, Sam and Gabriel; besides, just because she had ridden on Kali’s shoulders once didn’t mean she was her true rider. Dean never said anything about her true purpose to join the army of the Capital, and he let her be in good terms with both former armies. She had helped a lot, after all.

The rest of the regions were to be ruled by one dragon and one human as well. Dean and Castiel had been offered to share Samuel Campbell’s place as Lords of the Northern Region. Dean had declined the first time, after Castiel had almost gotten a rash even at the thought. But in the end, Dean had a talk with Castiel about who would get to take care of their beloved Elaurans if they weren’t the ones to do so; Cas had asked the Council, a bit embarrassed, if he still counted as a dragon even though he barely changed into his dragon form at all these days, making Crowley roll his eyes and point at the scales on Castiel’s shoulders. Dean and Castiel both agreed in the end, under general enthusiasm, but only under the condition that they could act without being there all the time; they were young and not in the mood to settle down, and the best thing would be to work through a representative. Dean thought that John and Mary would be really happy to get the news for their new job, especially John. And the good thing was that Dean would be the one to try and control his father’s actions now. Oh, how the times changed.

The rest of the regions were given to the ones the new Council thought appropriate; Lucifer and Ruby shared the responsibilities of Elavorn, and Meg had joined them as an assistant more than an actual co-ruler. Rao Shen, one of the former Council’s dragons, returned to the East, from whence he’d had been taken over a hundred years ago, and found the descendants of the family who had ruled there before the Capital sent their own people; Gail, an Emeray also formerly serving the Council, went to the South and did the same thing as Rao Shen, while Veritas went to the West and contacted Samuel Colt, a man who had always cared for the people more than the occasional Lord, to help her out.

The Aviators’ Order found its end as soon as the new Council was formed. Most of the soldiers in the rest of the armies were to be sent home, except for the ones who had chosen to be there, and they would be turned into police forces. If there was ever a war with the Uncharted Lands, the armies would reform. Dean hoped that sending them their scum wouldn’t be a cause for the first war between them.

Of course, there was tons of work to do. Rebuilding an entire nation that had suffered a civil war wasn’t an easy thing to do, and it would take much more than fixing the Authorities and freeing the soldiers. There were dead to be mourned, buildings to be taken advantage of for something else than military purposes, injured soldiers to be taken care of, the people’s minds to be changed. There were many who were still objecting to the union of Elavorn with the rest of Agorresh – even though, technically, it never stopped being a part of Agorresh – and it would take them some time to get used to the new way of things.

But Dean was confident and optimistic and, for the first time after a while, truly happy. He was supposed to get back to Elaurans to take office soon, but he and Castiel decided to postpone it to spend some time in the Capital during the celebrations. It had started snowing lazily these days, or at least, the guys from the Capital called that snow; Dean, having grown up in the North, rolled his eyes and called it frozen dandruff. But it felt good to feel the familiar cold on his skin, even though it didn’t bother him; after having the experience of growing freaking scales on his skin in a moment of distress, he guessed Cas’ blood had worked on him after all and didn’t question it. Well, at least as long as the scales didn’t come back at random, which they seemed to have no intention of doing. Dean had decided to just accept it and go on with his life, since there were no other side-effects that he knew of. He would see how it went as time passed.

At last, when the big fair outside the palace was held, Dean’s wish came true, and while he, Sam, Benny, Jo, Charlie, Lisa and Pamela were getting drinks, Cas, Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna, Samandriel and Inias were getting the food. The dragons had decided to try every human experience they could, and drank and danced and sang with the rest. Gabriel exchanged a passionate kiss with Kali right in front of the band with the violins and the drums and the lyres and the flutes, making them drop them to cheer; he also received a slap from Kali when he borderline made out with Balthazar, and a punch in the jaw plus another a jaw drop when he kissed Sam and Kali kissed Charlie in retaliation. Dean was surprised at first, but then remembered he had spent the entire evening with his hand on – well, okay, _between_ – Cas’ thighs. Gabriel was a general joy to watch, dressed as ridiculously as he was, flirting with everyone and dancing around as if he was drunk; Dean was planning to actually write down a list of his life goals, including making peace with his father and achieving happiness, and on top of it would be asking Gabriel where the fuck had he found that outrageous fuchsia bandana. Luckily, the rest of the dragons hadn’t followed his example, and if it weren’t for their scales and their variation of subtle draconic characteristics Dean was sure he wouldn’t have been able to tell them from normal civilians; they seemed to have taken the time to actually ask someone how to properly put clothes on themselves. Except for Cas, of course, who had enjoyed the experience of his impromptu armour and clothing and had decided to stick with that or variations of it.

Cas. Yes.

 A part of Dean had believed that everything that had happened between him and Castiel the night before the mission in the Capital was just a last-night-on-earth thing. He hadn’t dared to think what had happened until a couple of days after the battle, because it was just too much. He cared for Castiel, sure, and he truly loved him, even if he didn’t exactly know if it was in a platonic way or something more, but there were so many things about this that were wrong. Species, age gaps, the long years Cas probably had in front of him that Dean didn’t; damn it, species, species, _species_. And Dean didn’t want to trick Cas into something that he couldn’t pull through.

Until that third night, the evening of December the 12th, when they went to the fair. That night, when the others were swirling around, learning how to dance, how to move, how to live in peace, Castiel was just standing there, between the yellow light of a street lamp and the red light of a lantern. He was apparently the only one who couldn’t change his appearance as rapidly as the others, so his wings were fully out and lazily spread behind his seat, looking as if they were glowing under the moonlight and the colourful lights around the city, reflecting blues and greens and reds and purples on the surfaces around them. His arms were bare, even in the middle of December, and Dean very much enjoyed the sight of Cas’ sculpted biceps resting casually at his sides. Cas’ face was lit by a rare smile, one of those that actually showed a bit of teeth, and his eyes were glowing like tiny blue fires as he sipped his drink.

And Dean knew then that he was gone. No matter what changes he was going to see in the future on himself or on Cas, no matter how much time they had together, Dean knew, at that moment, that he wouldn’t let go. He knew how much he loved that strange man who had come out of an egg and wasn’t a dragon or an angel or a human, but he was the most amazing person Dean had ever met. He knew, right then, that he belonged to Castiel Silverwing, his Cas, his epic mythical creature that had saved them all without getting any credit, and that he didn’t care what would happen to them next, as long as they went through it together.

When the music started to slow down and a woman started singing a slow song, Dean took Castiel’s hand, for the first time in front of all those people, and pulled him up. Castiel looked at him curiously, tilting his head in that way of his, and followed his lead. Cas was as crappy a dancer as Dean was, but they both laughed at their failure and ended up hugging each other, just moving their feet slightly off-rhythm, trying not to step on each other. Castiel’s arms were around Dean’s waist and his head was resting on his shoulder, and Dean had locked his own arms around Castiel’s upper body, playing a little with the feathers he could reach, leaning his head against Castiel’s. They stayed there for the rest of the song, and for the next one, and for the next one, just holding, feeling each other, taking in their scents, appreciating each other’s existence.

At some point, Dean felt Castiel shift.

“What is it?” he muttered, not wanting to break the blissful silence between them.

“I’m just thinking,” murmured Castiel, and Dean felt the warm breath on his shoulder melting the snowflakes.

“What about?”

“Nothing. Just making plans for the future without asking permission first.”

“Whose permission?”

“Yours. I have to ask what you’re planning to do next, and then tell you what I’m thinking.”

Dean huffed. “Are you planning on going your own way, Cas?” he teased.

Dean felt Cas smile against his skin. “Not if you don’t send me away,” he answered.

“I’m never going to send you away, Cas,” whispered Dean, and they both knew it was more than just denying it; it was a declaration, a promise never to be broken. Dean’s heart beat fast before the need to say words he’d never said before, but he managed it.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do. I can read your mind. I knew it before you did.”

Dean snorted. “Fuck you very much, Cas,” he muttered, smiling awkwardly, feeling his cheeks turn red.

Castiel pulled back and stared into Dean’s eyes for a moment, smiling. “I love you too, Dean,” he said softly, and Dean couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled Cas back into his arms and kissed him as if it was the last thing he’d ever do, as if his life depended on the taste of Castiel’s lips and the tight grip in his hair.

The sound of applause didn’t bother Dean, neither did the whistling from Gabriel nor the woo-hooing from Balthazar, nor Sam’s gasping and the fastening beat of the music from the band’s side. For all he cared, they could shoot fireworks or release doves or even the fucking Kraken; he was here and Cas was in his arms, and they were all alive and in peace. Who cared about some unwanted enthusiasm?

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he and Cas stopped kissing, but he knew he liked the sight barely two inches from his face. Cas smiling, with his hair ruffled and his feathers fluffed and his lips red and swollen from the kissing was the best sight ever, and Dean wanted to wake up to it for the rest of his life.

“That was… intense,” Castiel commented, smiling, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Want to do it again? I think there are some people in the back who didn’t get a good look of us the first time.”

 _Never deny him anything,_ Dean thought, and this time, he didn’t even have to try to keep his word.


	20. Epilogue

Dean walked into the cabin as silently as he could, which was of course a moot point; Castiel had heard his footsteps from outside, and Dean was coming to wake him up anyway, so what was the point? Dean approached the hammock and gently touched Cas’ shoulder. Castiel groaned and covered his head with his pillow.

“Cas? Wake up.”

Castiel groaned again, making sure to keep his head under the pillow. “No more sex until morning, Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“It’s already morning, you asshat,” Dean laughed softly. “You’ve got a message.”

Castiel lifted the pillow from his head and looked at Dean, squinting. “I do?”

“Sam sent a message for your birthday. Benny got it, but he preferred not to come into your cabin, for obvious reasons.”

Castiel looked down at his naked body. “I never understood why this is shameful,” he commented, feeling the scratch in his throat more than usually. He got up and stretched, the tips of his wings brushing the sides of his cabin. The feathers were messed up and felt wrong, like he had a piece of food stuck in his teeth.

“Come on now, Mr. First Mate,” Dean said. “Dress up and come out. I’ve let you sleep long enough.”

“I’m married to the Captain, I can do whatever I want,” Castiel answered as he put on his pants and shirt.

“We’re not technically married, Cas,” Dean reminded him. “An elven wedding doesn’t count.”

Castiel just shrugged and got out of the cabin, smiling at the morning sun.

It was April and the sea was glistening, just like the first time Castiel had seen it. The dark green sail was all open, taking in the wind and leading them further into their journey; the great circle with Elaurans’ three golden dolphins in the bottom half of the sail glistened in the sun, just like the two silver wings above it, emblem of the new Impala. Castiel had never mentioned the slight discomfort he had felt the first time he’d seen it, but he had gotten used to it by now. Dean had said several times that he should try raising the Capital’s flag every now and then, just to remind people that he was more of a corsair than a pirate, but hey, he wasn’t attacking anyone, right? He was just adventuring his way around. If people liked to think of him as a pirate… well, they should tell that to the face of his husband with the draconic origin.

Castiel felt Dean’s arms slipping around his waist. Dean proceeded to put himself in the familiar position between Castiel’s wings with his head on his shoulder, staring at the horizon. Behind them, Benny and Balthazar were climbing the mast as Ash was steering steady to the North. Charlie’s footsteps thudded on the deck as she approached to hug Castiel, but she knew better than to interrupt them, so she returned close to Samandriel.

“Happy second birthday, Cas,” said Dean into Castiel’s ear and gave him the letter. Castiel smiled as he took it, and then looked at Dean.

“First of all, you _know_ that my kind counts the years from before I hatched. I’m fifty-two.”

“Cas, you’re _literally_ one of a kind. I can count the years however I want.”

“That’s offensive to my customs, Dean.”

“Well, Cas, you being twenty-two years older than me is creepy.”

“And you being twenty-eight older than me isn’t?”

“Just open the damn message.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s a birthday message since you were waiting for me to open it?”

Dean didn’t answer for a moment. Then, instead of an answer, placed his mouth on Castiel’s skin, right above his scales, and blew a raspberry. Castiel laughed and smacked him lightly on the head with the letter.

“What does it say?” Castiel asked.

“Sam’s still working on the effects your blood has to the dragons,” Dean informed him. “Bobby’s helping him. Actually, Bobby was accepted to teach in the Capital Academy starting next year.”

Castiel smiled. “That’s great, Dean,” he commented, and felt Dean nod.

“Sam says he does get out a bit more, though,” Dean continued. “He’s kind of dating Gabriel.”

Castiel turned his head so fast he felt his neck crack. “He what?”

“Well, Gabriel’s sort of dating Kali too, of course,” said Dean, “but Sam’s also kind of dating Ruby. A long distance thing, you know.” He shrugged. “If it works for them…”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly. “You know, I’m really happy for them, but I don’t think I could do that,” he commented. “I don’t think I could ever share you.”

“I couldn’t ever share me either.”

“You’re an asshole, Dean.”

“You’re on deck, First Mate. You should call me ‘Captain’.”

“You should think about matters of respect before you go grabbing my ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Castiel’s answer was interrupted by a piece of wrapped up paper thrown by Charlie. Dean looked at her.

“Go the hell back inside, you idiots,” she yelled at them. Castiel watched as Dean threw it back at her.

“Show a little respect for your Captain, Bradbury, or the brig is –“

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Castiel’s mouth. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck and didn’t resist when Castiel put his hands on Dean’s thighs, pulling them up around his own waist, and carried Dean back into the cabin. Castiel felt Dean try a couple of times until he managed to kick the cabin door closed behind them and threw him into the bed that was never used for sleeping, taking his comfortable position atop him.

“Get off of me, it’s my turn,” Dean demanded.

“It’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want,” Castiel said as his wingtips tickled Dean’s thighs.

“You seem to be using that excuse an awful lot lately,” commented Dean.

“So what? I’m the stuff of legends. I didn’t use that trait of mine when I was offered the world, so I’m going to use it with this small part of the world that I particularly enjoy.”

“You should tell me if this isn’t enough for you,” teased Dean as Castiel’s teeth tugged at the laces of his pants. “If you feel too heroic today, I should know so I could conquer something for you or something. Do I owe you a kingdom? In the stories, the hero gets the kingdom.”

Castiel laughed. “Don’t talk.”

“It’s my fault for – oh _God_ – for offering you a kingdom, you ungrateful bastard,” panted Dean as Castiel’s fingers pulled Dean’s pants down.

“I don’t care about that part of a fairytale, Dean,” Cas said, placing a kiss on Dean’s lower abdomen. “I already got the part I wanted.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t all fairytales end with that ridiculous ‘happily ever after’?”

Castiel could see that Dean was trying not to roll his eyes, and smirked at that, satisfied that he got the reaction he was looking for.

“You really think you got it?” Dean asked.

“Sure I did. We’re living in an amazing tale.” Castiel lay down on Dean’s stomach, folded his hands under his head and looked at him. “And isn’t that the right way to end a story?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “If you want to believe that our story’s over just because we saved the world, then yes, so the legend says.”

Castiel pushed himself up and kissed Dean, keeping Dean’s lower lip a little longer between his teeth than needed, and pulled back. “So the legend says,” he agreed, and they didn’t talk any longer that morning.

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story ends, there are some things left unsaid.
> 
> The story was mostly inspired by Naomi Novik’s “Temeraire” (or “His Majesty’s Dragon”). After a few thousand words it got away from me. The universe is changed from the Napoleonian Wars into a fantasy one because I couldn’t imagine Dean taking Will Lawrence’s place as a noble Englishman. Sorry. 
> 
> (The world this story takes place in is of my own making, and it appears in my original story which is first written during NaNoWriMo 2013. It’s also featuring in a pen and paper RPG based on the GURPS system. Anyone who’d like more info, unlikely as that is, you’ll find me on Tumblr under “steviecass”. The tag for the world in my main blog is mostly “Children of the Flames”, while parts of the world are more analysed in my side blog “agorresh”. Just in case.)
> 
> I’d like to thank everyone who helped in the creation of this fic. First of all, Jess (kismetjeska), who reassured me it was a good idea. Thanks to Brianna for taking a first look, Bluie (there-is-a-bluebird) for starting the beta-ing, Rexy (rexchester) for continuing it, and most of all Scarlet (scarletclarinet) for literally taking the thing apart and teaching me a shitton of things in the process. She saved my ass. Thanks to Marita (theswordintheparsnip) too, because she started reading the fic even though she hates Supernatural, just because there were baby dragons in it, bless her soul.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful artist Asteraoth who managed to make these wonderful drawings for me even though she had troubles irl.
> 
> And thanks to the awesome DCBB mods who gave my team another month to work on this monster.
> 
> If anyone’s interested, the music I was listening to while writing this included the following soundtracks: Amelie, Avatar 2009, The Avengers, Brave, Disney’s Dinosaur, Doctor Who Season 4 and 5, Gladiator, Harry Potter (all movies), How to Train Your Dragon, The Hobbit, King Arthur, The Lord of the Rings Extended, Pacific Rim, Pirates of the Caribbean (all movies), Troy, War Horse.
> 
> Thanks, everyone! I couldn’t have done it without you.


End file.
